RAJ 
BRIGAND CHIEF 


AMY CARMICHAEL 





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Library of Che Theological Seminary 


PRINCETON - NEW JERSEY 


CP 


PRESENTED BY 


Delavan L,. Pierson 
BVe oO 2ZO09m Roa eo 
Carmichael, Amy, 1867-1951.) 
Raj, brigand chief 





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in 2022 with funding from 
Princeton Theological Seminary Library 


https://archive.org/details/rajbrigandchieftOOcarm 


RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


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Photo by A. G. Arnot 


THE SADHU’S CAVE 


The cave of the Decision, which seemed haunted by dark influences. A mass of rock 
100 feet long and very wide and thick, had been thrown down upon huge boulders that 
stood embedded in the bank that fell to the river. These rocks divided it roughly into 
four caverns or rooms, through one of which a stream of waterran, filling the cavern 

with a chillclammy air. (Page 147.) 


RAJ, BRIGAND 


THE TRUE STORY OF AN INDIAN ROBIN HOOD DRIVEN BY 
PERSECUTION TO DACOITY; AN ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE 
OF DARING, FEATS OF STRENGTH, ESCAPES & 
TORTURES, HIS ROBBERY OF THE RICH @& 
GENEROSITY TO THE POOR, HIS SINCERE 
CONVERSION TO CHRISTIANITY 
& HIS TRAGIC END 





EY 
AMY CARMICHAEL 
AUTHOR oF “Lotus Bups,” “mimosa,” &c, &c, 


WITH FOREWORDS BY 
THE BISHOP OF MADRAS 
THE BISHOP OF TINNEVELLY 
THE BISHOP OF TRAVANCORE & COCHIN 


AND 


W. H. SOMERVELL, M.A., M.B., B.Ch. 
Member of the 1924 Mount Everest Expedition 


New York : Chicago 
Fleming H. Revell Company 


PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN 


FOREWORD 


By THE BISHOP OF TRAVANCORE 


HIS is the story of a real person and of a real tragedy of 

quite recent date. Parts of it may appear too good, and 
others too bad to believe. Yet it is fact, not fiction; and, as one 
who lived in the district where the tragedy ran its course, I was 
concerned, though in a subordinate capacity, with some of the 
episodes recorded, being in fact the friend referred to on page 77, 
who was selected in so singular a manner to be the minister of 
Raj’s baptism, and I am glad to attest the truth of the narrative 
so far as the events referred to came under my observation. I 
desire also to confess myself convinced—where indeed I have 
had no means of full or direct verification, but am aware of the 
unique sources of information accessible to the writer—by the 
author’s general estimate of Ray’s character and conduct. The 
story is a wonderful illustration of the power of God’s grace, 
however thwarted within the limits of this life by untoward 
circumstances. It also throws light on a dark side of village life 
in India which is concealed from ordinary observation. On both 
accounts, therefore, its publication is to be welcomed. 


E. A. L. Moore, 


Bishop of Travancore and Cochin, 
formerly missionary of the C.M.S. in Tinnevelly. 


FOREWORD 


By THE BISHOP OF TINNEVELLY. 


HIS is a great and moving story. It belongs to one of the 

world’s great stories, stories of the Great Shepherd of the 

sheep who is come to seek and to save that which was lost. It 
describes a man who fled the Hound of Heaven. 


‘‘ From those strong Feet that followed, followed after. 
But with unhurrying chase 
And unperturbed pace 
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy 
They beat—and a voice beat 
More instant than the Feet— 
‘All things betray Thee, who betrayest Me.’”’ 


Raj was no saint of the stained-glass window type. He was 
very human and a real sportsman and, although he failed to 
reach the highest, we cannot but sympathise with this sorely- 
tried man struggling to win his way back to the life of a free and 
honest citizen. Personally I never met him (he died only a few 
weeks after my arrival in Tinnevelly), but I know what the 
popular opinion of him was and I have met several of his friends. 
Some I have baptised, some I have confirmed, and I know how 
they have suffered for their faith. 

Perhaps something should be said of the dark background of 
this story. It reminds me of the Bay of Naples, one of the fairest 
sights in the whole world, but behind it looms dark and grim the 
terrors of Vesuvius. So behind this story of the amazing love of 
God and His transforming grace we cannot help seeing grim 
spectres of cruelty and treachery. 

Now this book is a story, but it is a story which has come within 
the writer’s own experience, the facts of which she has taken the 
greatest pains to verify, and she can speak with the authority 
of thirty years’ residence in India, as well as of an intimate 
knowledge of the language and customs of the people. She has 
laid her finger on a covered sore of India. This book, therefore, 
must challenge thought, but it will be an inspiration to all who 
in India and elsewhere are working for public righteousness and 
civic justice, for the spread of Christian ideals of citizenship, 
and for the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth. 


NORMAN TINNEVELLY. 
g 


FOREWORD 


By THE BISHOP OF MADRAS 


N the easy optimism of the missionary meeting, the triumphs 
of the Kingdom of Christ may seem to be lightly gained. 
One naturally hastens to a triumphant climax. Learn a lesson 
from the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. The first rides out 
splendid on his white horse and crowned : he goes forth conquer- 
ing and to conquer. Conquer he will, but not lightly. His figure 
fades, and there comes forth the red horseman of strife, the 
black horseman of famine and the pale horseman of death: 
and at the sight of these even the souls of the martyrs cry, 
“How long ?”’ Then comes the climax when the Lamb of God, 
Himself slain for the sin of man, appears in His majesty ; leads 
His people in triumph by living fountains of water, and God 
Himself dries their tears. 

This is the real path of the Kingdom: and in lands where God 
is not yet known as the God of love, it is the path which a Church 
or an individual believer often has to tread. 

This book pictures such a struggle and such a hard-won 
triumph, and those who would help should ponder and pray and 
work to bring the triumph nearer. 

HARRY MApDRAS. 


FOREWORD 


By T. Howarp SOMERVELL, M.A., M.B., B.Ch. 


HE story of Raj is the story of a sportsman; it should 

appeal to all who loye adventure. But it is more than 
that. It is absolutely true; its publication was delayed for 
some time in order that everything in the book should be verified. 
It is also an effective answer to those who think that Missions 
are useless, and native Christians necessarily humbugs. For 
Raj began as a very sporting type of brigand, yet after becoming 
a Christian he was an immensely finer man, as the story will 
show. And through all this book there runs the excitement of a 
man-hunt, and the lurid background of the torture-chamber 
which, as few people at home realise, is too often the normal 
background of Indian village life; yet it is high time they did 
realise it, for surely we Britons are in a sense responsible, if not 
for it, at least for its mitigation. 

Throughout this story of Raj, the effect of this lurid back- 
ground is as nothing when the power of God comes along. And 
it is high time people realised the power of God, too. 

So let me, whose life has been largely one of adventure, add 
my humble foreword to this really great story: if you want 
adventure, the glamour of the East, and a true story about a 
real sportsman—here it is. 

T. HOWARD SOMERVELL. 


10 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


PART I 
THE JuMP 
THE YELLOW PAPER 
O sIR, HELP ; 
I DIE FOR THE SHAME OF IT 
THE TRIPLE OATH 
THE MAKING OF A Gua 
Raj Escapes 
OUTLAWED 
A PoEt’s CORNER AND A viniegea eens 
RAJ BECOMES THE RED TIGER 


PART II 


THE TIGER’S COUNTRY. 

THE TIGER’S Ways i P : 
THE POINTING FINGER MUST BE CUT OFF 
On SPECIAL Duty 

FAME 4 

THE BANYAN-BORDERED ete 

TRAPPED 

A Joy RIDE 


PART III 
CooLiz TALK 
A MAN WITHOUT A con 
By THE Lotus WATER. 
OVER THE FivE D&Mons 
HIMsa . : 
MEANT UNTO GOooD ; 
THINGS THAT CAME TO PASS . 


I HAVE LEFT THE WRETCHED WAYS OF THE ABOMIN- 


ABLE DEVIL 
PLEAD GUILTY : : : 
THEY WILL NEVER LET THEE OUT. 
OVER THE WALL OF THE JAIL 
II 


PAGE 
17 
19 
21 
24 
26 
28 
29 
30 
31 
35 


38 
41 
44 
47 
49 
51 
54 
56 


59 
62 
63 
67 
69 
q1 
74 


th) 
8I 


82 
84 


I2 


CHAPTER 


VITl. 


CONTENTS 


PART IV 


HAVE WE COME OUT TO ROB 

I HAVE FORGIVEN HIM LONG AGO 

TELL HER THAT I HAVE FORGIVEN THEM TOO 
MADCAP 

My MIND REFUSED TO DESIRE 

THREE FIERY NIGHTS 

THE LETTER FROM THE CAVE 

A PLAN THAT FAILED . 


BA Tolga) 


By THE Cactus HEDGE 
Docs AND DRUGS 

ALLIES ; 
Just A FEW HuMAN BONES . 
ONE MORE FORTNIGHT . 
POISON-GAS . 


PART VI 


THE TAIL WAGS THE HEAD 

THE PILGRIMS’ CHORUS 

“THEY, SAY 

THE SHADOW OF THE SUBSTANCE . 
IN THE WET Woops : 
TORCHES IN THE SADHU’S CAVE 


PART OVIt 


ANOTHER KIND OF LIGHT 

LITTLE STORIES OF COMFORT 

IT IS AN ORDER 

INSTEAD OF THE BOILING—ASHES . 

THE HOLLOW AMONG THE YOUNG PALMS 
““AN EAR OPEN TO US”’ 

AND I sarp, ‘“‘ YES, LorD’”’. 


102 
104 


108 
III 
II5 
117 
119 
121 


127 
128 
132 
137 
139 
140 


145 
148 
150 
I5I 
153 
155 
158 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


PART VIII 


THE POOLS WERE FILLED WITH WATER . 

Just ONE DAY APART 

ALAS ! FOR THE JOKE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN . 
CHECKMATE . 

AND THOU, BROTHER ! A : 

THE RISHI, SILK-SCARF, AND A PRICKED BUBBLE 
JUBILATE .. . ‘ : iv ARONA The . 


PART IX 


It’s so Bap FOR THE DEVIL 

THE EYE-WITNESS WRITES A LETTER 

THE NOTEES ; ‘ 

Go AND WATCH 

INSTANS TYRANNUS 

SUSPENSE, RELIEF 

JOTHI, THE TAVERN KEEPER 4 : : 
THREE TIGERS, A BEAR’S CUB AND SEVEN PANTHERS 
UNDER MORNING AND EVENING STARS . - 


PART X 


WITH HER OWN HANDS LET HER SHOOT US. ‘ 
RAJ PAYS A VISIT TO THE DISTRICT HOSPITAL 

AND THE RAILWAY STATION . 2 

THE WHISTLING SCHOOLBOY . 

IN THE ELEPHANT GRASS : 

THE WHISTLING SCHOOLBOY AGAIN 7 - 
CARRY HIM OFF . : ? d 

No MOONLIGHT NOR STARLIGHT . ! : 


PART XI 


THE MEETING AND THE PARTING . : 

THE BLUE TIME IN THE FOREST : ; 
WILL THEY NEVERHEAR ? WILL THEY NEVER KNOW ? 
WHERE THE BIRDS RANG THEIR LITTLE BELLS 
INKED WATERS AND THE C.I.D. . : ‘ ; 


14 
CHAPTER 


Mit 
VIl. 


CONTENTS 


THE WIDOW OF THE JEWELS 

THE IBEX HUNTER 

THE GoLtp MEDAL 

His CAVE oF ADULLAM 

A GREAT VOICE AS OF A TRUMPET 
““T HAVE A LETTER” 
WITHIN A WEEK . 
MARutT’s LETTER . 

THE Last BARS OF THE 
Loot . ; ‘ . é M 
Via . . 

More Loot. 


c¢ 


PART XII 


WILL IT BE ALLOWED OUT ? 

A CELL, AND A MAN IN EACH CORNER . 
NoT SHUT UP TO DESPAIR . ‘< 

My Lorp, SHINE UPON ME 

POND. ‘ ‘ ‘ , 

By THE LAKE OF THE REEDS 


THE FELLOWSHIP OF THOSE WHO BEAR THE MARK 


IT IS THE SPIRITUAL THAT IS STRONG 
REJOICE NOT AGAINST ME, O MINE ENEMY 


PILGRIMS’ CHORUS ”’ 


PAGE 
250 
255 
259 
261 
264 
266 
268 
271) 
273 
276 
280 
282 


286 
291 
293 
297 
299 
302 
304 
306 
308 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE SADHU’S CAVE ° ° ° ° ° ° ° Frontispiece 


PAGE 


THE WELL WHICH RAJ JUMPED : ‘ 3 ‘ ai 2a 
THE TIGER’S COUNTRY . : ‘ ; : : Sy NAG 
THE GATE OF THE GARDEN HOUSE . : ‘ ‘ YA hoy be 
To THE UNKNOWN GOD . : : é : , ef Gs 
“ARE My LITTLE CHILDREN SAFE ?”’ f : , Be Gt | 
THE MOTHERS’ SHRINE. : : . : ‘ ra Nag 
Raj’s House . j A : ; ; Y ; ; 96 
THE HOSTEL . : ‘ ¥ ‘ , : ‘ ‘ 96 
THE RIVER BED NEAR THE Joyous CIty . : ; LK OO 
A Farry Poou ‘ ° ‘ * " ; ‘ i 1436 
Raj’s CHILDREN GATHERING RUSHES : : , Aap 0, 
THE SpLit Rock ‘ . : ° : ; é se Tas 
Raj’s Rock . 3 ; : : : : : - 168 


THE MOUNTAINS THAT LOOKED DOWN UPON THE SCENE OF 
Raj’s GREAT DECISION ‘ ‘ ‘ . : LNB ig Cs 


PER AS HE STOOD THINKING OF THE DAYS THAT WERE Past 184 


PER MEASURING THE DROP TO THE POOL . . ° me xo) | 
THE Lotus WATER . 7 : ‘ , ¥ : lorie! a. 
MOUNTAIN AND PLAIN m . : . é - 200 


16 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
Two TyYPIcAL VIEWS IN Raj’s COUNTRY 

THE SCENE OF Raj’s DEATH 

THE LAKE OF THE REEDS 


THE SCENE OF THE FINAL TRAGEDY. 


PAGE 
216 


232 
232 


256 


RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


PARP? I 


Though I waste half my realm to unearth 
Toad or rat, ’tis well worth. . 

So, I soberly laid my last plan 

To extinguish the man. 

Round his creep-hole, with never a break 
Ran my fives for his sake ; 

Overhead, did my thunder combine 

With my underground mine : 

Till I looked from my labour content 

To enjoy the event. 


When sudden ... how think ye, the end ? 
Did I say “ without friend ”’ ? 
Say rather, from marge to blue marge 
The whole sky grew his targe 
With the sun’s self for visible boss, 
While an Arm ran across 
Which the earth heaved beneath like a breast 
Where the wretch was safe prest ! 
Do you see? just my vengeance complete, 
The man sprang to his feet, 
Stood erect, caught at God’s skirts, and prayed. 
So, I was afraid ! 
BRowNnInNG, “‘ Instans Tyrannus.” 


CHAPTER I 
THE JUMP 


“T UMP the well?” said Rama. “I doubt it.” 
J “Jump it I will,” said Raj, with the full faith of his 
seventeen years. 
““ Wilt bite a mouthful out of the sky and leave a scar behind ? ”’ 
quoted Rama. 
Raj laughed. 
The two, man and boy, were standing by the low wall of a well 
by the outskirts of a village dropped at random on a plain under 


B 17 


18 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


mountains that run in patterns of half-moons for a thousand 
miles through India. The man, as he tossed off his white 
shoulder-scarf and, sitting astride on the wall of the well, pro- 
ceeded to calculate the width, showed a strong sinewy frame ; 
but the boy was athlete all over, and his merry eyes danced as 
he watched his friend ticking off cubits and spans in the air with 
along lean hand. “So many ? so many is it?’ he said, as Rama 
counted aloud, and he flung back his shoulders and laughed. On 
a day that saw that boy's name a household word in his own 
little world and beyond, and white men and women came to look 
at the well, and measure it with a tape, and manifested the 
strangest care about so trivial a thing as half an inch more or 
less, Rama recalled that gesture and that laugh. 

The well was certainly fairly large even for India, land of 
large wells. It was twenty feet seven inches across, or, including 
the stone walls built round it, it was twenty-three feet. The 
near wall at the point where the jump would have to be taken 
was two feet three inches high, and had on both sides a sloping 
shoulder five inches wide. To jump the well, Raj would have to 
light first on the top of this wall, and from it clear the well and 
the wall opposite. Just clearing the further wall, the minimum 
distance was twenty-one feet nine and a half inches, and as it 
would be impossible to drop straight by the wall, the jump would 
have to be several inches further. 

“T’'l] do it,” said the boy to himself. ‘‘ I’ll do it if I have to 
practise for a year,’ and all the way up from the well to his home 
he was thinking about that jump. 

His home was not far off. It was a neat small house of red 
brick, roofed with red tiles, so that in sunset it looked like a 
little rock of red coral. Inside there was the same reddish colour- 
ing, for the walls were smoothly plastered with a kind of red 
cement, and in fire-light and lamp-light the rooms were like coral 
caves. In the living room there was a book cupboard of dark 
teak wood let into the wall, and the door and its panels and fine 
beading were of the best old teak. Door and panels and the 
capitals of the tiny verandah pillars were carved and, though 
never dusted, except by the wind, this carving gave an air of 
distinction to the little house. At one side stood the shed for 
oxen and farm utensils, quaint ploughs, mat-roofed carts and 
the like: straw stacks stood near by, and the whole little com- 
pound framed in a green country at the foot of the hills wore 
that pleasant expression of prosperity that seems to push the 
thought of trouble very far away. 

And now for a while, morning and evening, Raj practised long 


THE YELLOW; PAPER 19 


jumps, sprinting from a palm tree that stood a little distance 
from the well. And he marked lines on the sand by the side of 
the wall, till he was sure that he could clear the well. A dozen 
or more village lads were with him the day that he took the 
jump for the first time, and they shouted with a great shout that 
drew half of the people out of the village as he landed clear of 
the wall. “ There, just there did his feet touch,” said Rama, 
digging his bare toe into the soft ground a little distance from 
the wall. ‘‘ We marked it at the time and well do I remember 
it.’ While the white people were busy with their tape measure 
and notebook, Rama had sat on the wall, watching them with 
the puckered brow of polite surprise, but now, the calculations 
finished, he had swung off and stood on the grass by the well 
side. “ After that day there was nothing in the way of long 
jumping that Raj did not attempt. And he climbed like a cat ; 
but from the day he could walk he could climb, for muscles of 
steel had he. This jump was only one of many, and some of 
them were harder than this: but the first big jump, who could 
forget?’ It was vivid enough apparently even then, some 
fifteen years afterwards, for an oldish man came up at that 
moment, and slouching down on the wall joined in the con- 
versation, and told how one day when Raj came to jump a 
kingfisher was sitting on one of the steps leading down into the 
well. As Raj jumped, the startled bird rose. There was a flash 
of blue, and Raj in mid-air shot out his hand and caught the 
bird as it passed him. He landed on the other side with the 
bird in his hand. 


CHAPTER II 
THE YELLOW PAPER 


THE bright years flew. There was a sad time when Raj buried 
his father and his mother (in his clan burial, not burning, was 
usual). He hired a band to mourn, with many wind instruments 
and tom-toms, and made great burials for them, and after all 
was over, the feasters feasted, and the offerings offered, he com- 
forted himself with the good gifts left to him. For he had been 
married to two sisters (as a Hindu this was allowed) and they 
were as devoted to each other as to him, so what might have 
been an uncomfortable arrangement proved exceedingly happy, 
and Raj’s sky was blue. 

Then, after he had been given a little daughter, whom in his 
pleasure he named Delight, and a little son, most welcome boon 


20 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


of the gods, Sella, their mother, the elder of the two sisters, 
became ill with a malady nothing could ease. 

““What more is left to us to do? ”’ said Seetha, the younger 
sister, one day in despair, after the departure of the village 
barber who had doctored poor Sella for weeks. Squatting on 
‘the kitchen verandah with a flat stone before him, he had 
patiently ground pig’s tusk, elephant’s tooth, stag’s horn, tiger’s 
claw, and finally some powdered silver and gold, and made a 
paste, and added chopped herbs and a few grains of white 
arsenic from the bazaar. This thick and difficult mixture of 
greenish grey gruel Sella had as patiently swallowed, and yet 
she was no better. And frequent offerings had, of course, been 
sent to various gods. ‘‘ What more can we do? ”’ said Seetha 
again. ‘‘ There is nothing left to do.” 

Yes, there was one thing left to do. Wandering round the 
villages, well spoken of in spite of her extreme peculiarities, was 
a girl known as the Praying Girl, who went to any house where 
people called her to pray. As a last hope, Seetha sent for her, 
and escorted by an older woman the Praying Girl arrived. 

She was a mere slip of a girl, very slim, for she lived on frugal 
fare, and spent nights and days in fasts and vigils, but she had 
the root of the matter in her. ‘“ Without doubt,” was her calm 
assurance to Seetha, “the God of the Christians hears prayer. 
Also, for He is Lord of life and death, He can deliver thy sister 
from death,’”’ and going into the stuffy little room, whose every 
aperture was closed to the dangerous fresh air, she pleaded long 
and ardently for Sella’s life. And an awe fell on Seetha. Raj 
was away at the time; when she tried to share that strange 
experience with him she found that he could not understand. 
So she told herself perhaps after all it was a mistake; but it 
did seem as if someone had heard. And Sella sat up and gasped, 
“T am healed,” and Seetha sent an offering to their own gods 
lest they should be affronted, and another and a better one to 
the apparently more powerful Lord of life and death. And Sella 
worshipped Him then who was Lord of life and death. Then, 
suddenly, she died. 

And now Seetha had two children to mother. She took Sella’s 
baby boy to her heart as her own, and the little daughter was 
never allowed to feel motherless. Then came a joyful day when 
grief in parting with Sella was swallowed up in the joy of welcom- 
ing her first-born son. 

““A son! ason! To Seetha is born a son!’ The words 
shouted across the fields met Raj and filled him with exultation. 
Two sons, oh, rich was Raj that day, a man favoured of the gods, 


OQ? SERS HELP’! 21 


Off he ran to the shrine under the tree where his mother had 
knelt with him and taught him as a little boy how to press his 
hands together in prayer, and he offered his thank-offerings. 
Then he hastened to Seetha, and her mother laid the little new 
thing in his arms, and his heart was soft and tender as a child’s 
with the sweetness of this happiness. Then he went to the fields 
again, and now another messenger came running, “‘ Raj! Raj! 
Raj! The Yellow Paper is out against thee!’’ It was a mes- 
senger who had raced with the news which had escaped from 
the nearest police station. ‘‘ The Yellow Paper (warrant of 
arrest) will accuse thee of sharing in the dacoity in the Village 
of the Pool. Flee, Raj! Flee!” 


CHAPTER III 


O SIR, HELP! 
RAJ fled to the forest. 

His friends followed him, and ministered to his needs, and 
supplied him with instant and intimate news of the search for 
him on the Plains. And it never crossed his mind or theirs that 
this evasion of the Yellow Paper would argue that he was a 
guilty man, and make it all the harder to prove his innocence. 
From his point of view and theirs, it was the only thing to do; 
for in a land where the facts of life have coined a word meaning 
a false case, and where a powerful enemy’s first threat to his 
weaker foe is that such a case will be brought against him, it 
may well be that an innocent man will become inextricably 
entangled if once his feet are caught in the mere outer fringe of 
the net of the Law. So in the first moment of panic, Raj, who 
knew that somewhere among the shadows on the borders of his 
path there was one who might be watching for such a chance as 
this, thought of nothing else but flight as possible at all. 

India is a sunny land, and to the casual glance appears as 
frank as her open face, but many a village has hidden away in 
its heart at least one dread, and often several. There are in-— 
fluences that move in silence; there are powers that wait with 
an awful patience till the moment arrives when the blow can | 
be dealt that will strike its victim down. 

All through his fearless youth Raj had refused the grovelling 
obeisance demanded by one who walked as a god among men. 
So it was not hard to account for the Yellow Paper. Raj knew 
about the dacoity in the Village of the Pool in the adjoining 
Native State. An acquaintance of his own had, most unhappily, 


22 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


been mixed up in it. Had this furnished the watcher with the 
opportunity for which he had waited? Raj remembered now 
that once and again it had seemed to him as though a little cloud 
were arising out of the sea. But before it rose it melted in the all- 
pervading blue. Now, suddenly, his whole sky was overcast. 

There was just one ray of light. If only he could reach the 
highest of his immediate world, him whom he called the Great, 
who lived in a big house surrounded by many attendants, if only 
he could get through them all to the Great himself, he would 
understand. Was he not as a king and a father? Did he not 
know everything ? He would know that Raj had no chance to 
prove an alibi when well-paid witnesses were ready to prove 
that he had been in the Village of the Pool with firearms in his 
hands, Yes, he would know. He would know all about the ways 
of courts, and he would speak the word, and the trouble would 
melt as the little clouds had melted, and leave not a stain behind. 

So Raj sent word to Seetha to keep a brave heart for he would 
soon be home, and, finding a visit to the Great quite impracti- 
cable, he wrote a letter, explaining everything in full, and begging 
him to put allright, and sent it to the post by a trusty messenger, 
and waited, standing on a crag on the hill-side, shading his eyes 
with his hands, hour after hour for many days, watching for the 
runner who would hold aloft a letter as he ran. He waited thus 
till hope failed ; for no answer ever came. And so little did Raj 
know then of the meaning or ways of the Law that he could not 
have understood, even if it had been explained to him, why 
Justice herself forbade the reply he had been so sure would come. 

Down in the little red house Seetha waited, too, for sound of 
the wind that would blow the clouds from the sky, and bring 
back the happy fair weather. But it did not come. Her heart 
was very heavy. Her parents were caring for the family, Raj 
had made all possible arrangements for her comforts and the 
children’s ; but life with Raj away was desolate indeed. 

But Seetha was not forgotten. Four or five hours’ walk from 
her village was a house which had never heard of her or of Raj. 
That house, the Garden House, was set in the midst of a garden 
where there were many cottages full of children, and the Garden 
Village children, as they grew up, were accustomed to go to the 
villages round about, telling any who would listen of a Saviour 
from sin and a Comforter in distress. Upon an afternoon a 
month or two after Raj’s flight, Nesa, one of these young girls, 
remembering that a woman in the Village of the Cactus, a mile 
or so distant, had asked to be taught, arranged to go to her, 
taking with her an older woman as chaperon. 


OF STRMAELP / 23 


When she reached the house she found a young wife with a 
baby boy in her arms sitting on the inner verandah of the house. 
The girl was gentle, her eyes were large and soft like the eyes of 
a fawn, but they looked as if they had known the feel of tears, 
and Nesa asked her what her trouble was. The girl told her. 
“And so,” she ended her tale with a little broken sob, “ he is up 
in the forest, and how can he ever come down? They will carry 
him to jail if he comes down. It is a false case’’ (she used the 
strange hybrid word which describes it), ‘ thou knowest how 
hard it is to find a defence from that.” 

Nesa knew, all India knows. She nodded sympathetically, 
and the women of the house sighed. 

But though Nesa knew of no comfort where such cases are 
concerned, she knew of comfort that can carry one through 
distress, and she began to tell Seetha of the Cooler of our weari- 
ness. ‘‘Come unto Me,” He says, “ ye who are troubled and 
are bearing heavy burdens, and I will cool your weariness.’”’ But 
Seetha did not at once respond. She knew Nesa must be speak- 
ing of the Christians’ God, and had He not failed her before, or 
answered but to disappoint ? How could she be sure that He 
would hear her now, or that if He heard He would not seem to 
help and then fail her again? Is to pray to Him to wait even 
as the parrot waits for the bursting of the pod of the silk cotton 
tree? The pod bursts indeed, but only fluff flies out, there is 
no fruit for the satisfying of the parrot’s hunger. Is prayer, 
after all, like that ? 

Not just at once, but gradually, the assurance and the comfort 
Nesa offered stole into Seetha’s heart. Something in the younger 
girl’s quiet confidence helped her. At last she said, *‘ Will He 
listen if we call upon Him now?” And they both knelt down 
on the beaten earthen floor of the cottage, and Nesa told Him 
whom she called Lord of life and death (familiar word to Seetha) 
about poor Seetha’s trouble, and Seetha herself broke in with, 
“O Sir, help! Deign to listen tome. O Sir,” and out went her | 
arms in appeal, “I implore You to listen and help. O Sir, help.” 

There was quiet then for a few minutes, and Seetha broke in 
again with another, ‘‘Sir, I ask You kindly to turn the heart of 
my husband who is in the forest to Yourself.” 

What exactly she meant who shall say? It may have been 
only that the faithful little wife longed that, somehow, the com- 
fort which had soothed her should soothe him, too, or there may 
have been more in it than that, for before she rose from her knees 
she said, “‘ And, Sir, kindly keep him from evil. This, also, Sir, 
I do entreat.’’ Then she rose content, 3 


24 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


What had led her to that house that afternoon ? Nothing but 
a passing fancy to see her relatives who lived in the Village of 

the Cactus ? 

/ “Tt happened so by its own doing. It happened so by the 
, doing of the Shining One.”’ By one or other of these two phrases 
India explains such a coincidence as this chance meeting of 
Seetha and Nesa. To those who believe that the story of ‘‘ Gaza, 
which is desert,’’ may be repeated any day, this that had been, 
happened so by the doing of the Shining One. 

But Nesa, upon her return to the Garden House, forgot to tell 
the little tale to those who would have been most interested. 
It is vain to question what might have been had she remembered. 
Well for us that we have a Father who remembers our forgotten 
stories, gathers up our forgotten prayers and answers them, not 
according to their poor limitations but according to His riches 
in glory by Christ Jesus. 


CHAPTER IV 
1 (DIE FOR THE SHAME OF IT 


ALMOST at once, as it appeared to Seetha, the answer came to 
that cry of her heart. Raj left India safely, and in a foreign 
land got good work and sent home money for his family. He 
began to think of arranging for them to come to him, never, of 
course, dreaming that he would thereby betray his place of 
refuge; but, about the time he decided to send for them, dis- 
tressing letters came, the first describing Seetha’s accident; she 
had fallen from a swing and hurt her back, and the second telling 
of the death that had overtaken in one way or another five men 
who had incurred the displeasure of the Power within the 
shadows. 

With that second letter in his hands, Raj stood dismayed. 
For, as a stone strikes a sheet of plate glass, a terrible thought 
had struck him, and from that point of fear, across him now were 
darting new fears, shattering fears. To such a length as this did 
his enemy’s malignity reach? He had been foiled in his purpose 
where he, Raj, was concerned. What of Seetha? Raj knew 
what had happened to other men’s wives. He could not wait to 
hear again. He took passage in the first boat sailing to India, 
and hurried straight home to Seetha. 

He found her fragile and frightened. Vague fears haunted her 
night and day. Raj had some poor hope that the police would 
have forgotten about him—had he not been for a whole year out 


I DIE FOR THE SHAME OF IT 25 


of India? He had yet to learn that Law never forgets. But in 
his great anxiety of mind he hovered near the little house where 
Seetha and his children were, even after he had been driven to 
understand that he dare not live there. He remembered the 
fate of a young wife who in her husband’s absence had been 
carried off, her dead body and her child’s had been dragged out 
of the well that he never passed thereafter without a shudder of 
horror. Desperately now he strove to find a way of keeping near 
Seetha ; but he had to fly to the forest again and watch over her 
from thence by what poor means he could. 

It was a miserable time, for he was ashamed of hiding. In his 
free honest life in Penang he had not felt like a criminal; now 
he felt like nothing else. 

“Tam no robber, it is a poor thing to skulk as if one were a 
robber ; how can I live to the end of my life crouching in holes 
and corners?” he said to Marut, a herb doctor who often 
searched for herbs on the foot-hills, and whom he met one day 
as he was wandering about disconsolately. The two had been 
schoolfellows, and were devoted friends. 

“Yes, it is a despicable thing to continue thus in hiding,” 
agreed Marut unexpectedly, “‘ and quite unworthy of thee. And, 
whatever the result of surrender, it is wrong to disobey the 
Yellow Paper. Thou should’st give thyself up, Raj. It is thy 
duty.” Raj winced at that. 

Ought he to come in and surrender and tell what he knew of 
that dacoity of over a year ago? What if he of the far-reaching 
hand could be persuaded to overlook the offence of the past and, 
for the sake of justice and mercy, so to direct the course of events 
that the false case should be withdrawn? That this could be 
done Raj never doubted. Should he trust to this hope and come 
in? But the question was settled in the flash of one dreadful second. 

He was alone one afternoon in the lower hills, in one of the 
glens which intersect those lovely places, trying to find comfort 
in the music of a little brown burn that ran among banks of fern. 
But water music is powerless when fierce claws are tearing a 
man’s heart-strings, and Raj started up anxiously when a hand 
pushed the bushes aside and a lad dropped through the fern to 
the water’s edge. 

“Tt is Seetha, they have beaten her,’’ began the boy, and Raj 
heard all in broken spurts of talk as they raced together down 
the hill. That morning, said the boy, men from the Native 
State armed with guns had gone to Raj’s father-in-law’s house 
and demanded to see Seetha. Seetha had come to the door, and 
they had asked her where Raj was. Seetha had said, and truly, 


26 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


that she did not know. She only knew that he was in the forest. 
But they said they must know more. Seetha had said she knew 
no more. She stood before them with her child in her arms, as 
if his little presence could protect her, and answered their ques- 
tions, and was turning to go, when one of the men stepped forward. 

“Thou liest, O Kamie.”’ 

Kama is the Indian Cupid, Kamie is the feminine form. Vile 
words followed the vile name, and the man snatched at her 
garments and struck her across the face. She broke from him 
crying, ““ Are you not a husband and a father that you can treat 
me so, me, with my child in my arms? I die, I die, I die for the 
shame of it!’’ And at first it seemed that she had died. 

But after a while she revived, and a strange quietness held her, 
and she spoke to those about her of One who was Lord of life 
and death, the Cooler of our weariness. And she sent no flowers 
or coco-nuts to be laid by the white shrine under the tree, 
though many told her that only by doing so could her poor Raj 
be helped, 

And soon her heart beat stronger with the joy of a great relief. 
For Raj was home again, and surely somehow he would manage 
to stay near her. But Raj had come at last to know that he had 
no power to protect his wife; while he stayed out she might at 
any time have to endure just such attacks as this. He must give 
himself up and end the search that brought such men to the 
door. So, not waiting to explain, perhaps he could not trust 
himself so far, he had hardly come before he was gone. A hurried 
word or two and he snatched up his children and clasped them 
in his arms, embraced Seetha—it was a hurried and a desperate 
embrace that almost crushed her—then with a set face left the 
house speaking not a word to anyone. 

And that night she heard what he did when he left her. And 
when she heard she cried one cry for Raj, and fell back dead on 
her mat. 

Raj heard of her death on the following night, when for the 
first time he felt the snap of cold steel on his wrists. 


CHAPTER V 
THE TRIPE POA Ee 


Raj had not expected to feel that snap of steel. In and out 
through labyrinthine ways he had gone, seeking him who stood 
within the shadows. And he had found him. There in that 
place of curtains and mysteries he had fallen on the ground, 


THE TRIPLE OATH 27 


stretched his body till it lay like a lifeless thing in the dust, 
stretched out his hands till his fingers touched the feet of him 
whom none ever addressed as a mere man, but always by some 
turn of speech that implied a Personage of power. 

And then upon his strained ear sweetest honey words had 
fallen. He had been graciously commanded to rise, and far more 
than he had asked was granted. “I, even I, will swear the Oath 


of the Lamp, the Book and the Child. There shall be no treachery. | 


I swear it,”’ said that very silken voice. 

And Raj, ashamed of his contumacy, rose and stood with 
bowed head and a wondering heart. Had he been mistaken all 
along? Had he wronged the virtuous by unworthy suspicions ? 
Then the triple oath was sworn. 

The lamp upon which that oath is sworn is a polished stem of 


brass that breaks into flower-like cups for the oil, in each cup lies | 


a lighted wick. Over this innocent shining tree, over the sacred 


- 


book of the man who swears, and over his eldest child, son or , 


daughter, the threefold oath, once sworn, binds soul and body 
for ever. 

Then the two men stood. “ By the lamp, by the book, and by 
my eldest son,’’ fell the solemn, the irrevocable words, * I swear 
that I will do no wrong to thee. If I break this oath, may evil 
overtake my eldest son and ruin him. As an eldest son art thou 
to me henceforth.’”” And Raj accepted the oath. 

They say pitying eyes watched him as he walked unafraid 
through the house, and out into the early afternoon, for there 
were some who were apprehensive, but no one dare speak plainly. 
And it might not have helped if they had ; for, among the several 
names by which Raj had been known throughout his twenty-seven 
years was one (from the Sanscrit) which means the man of one 
word, the Truthful, and all through his life he found it hard to 
distrust his fellow-men. 

To the nearest police station he walked then, it was worth 
the humbling of his pride to win safety such as this. And, 
saluting the first police officer he met, he surrendered. 

‘‘T have done no wrong, except in the matter of ignoring the 
Yellow Paper,” he explained. “I was not in that dacoity in 
the Village of the Pool, no, nor in any other. I give myself to 
Law ”’—of the promise of the triple oath he spoke no word. 
‘* All will be well,” said Law. And Raj slept that night in peace. 

Next morning he was led by his guards along the road to 
another police station. As the little procession approached the 
town, he heard a jangle of steel, felt the sharp snap of handcuffs. 
It was the first shock of disillusionment. It left him stupefied. 


28 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER VI 
THE MAKING OF A CRIMINAL 


DAYS crawled slowly into weeks; Raj was neither questioned 
nor tried. Kept in the cell of the small sub-jail, chained whenever 
he was taken out, dealt with as a hardened malefactor, all of him 
was keyed to the tone of a single reiterated Why ? Just when his 
bud was perfect and the fruit was ripening in the flower, why this 
sudden cutting off as with pruning hooks, this cutting down of 
his branches? And slowly, through the misery of those days 
and nights, as the rushing winds of startled and violent emotion 
died down, and his bemused mind became clear in its working, 
he fitted the fragments of the answer together piece by piece, 
till he had it complete, a thing of flame. 

Yes, it was all clear now, clear as a crag lighted up by a light- 
ning flash. He was doomed to destruction ; bound and utterly 
without defence was he, in the hand of an unappeased enemy. 
For the charge would be “ proved ’’—a criminal charge, not 
bailable they told him. What chance had he? What rights 
had he? What rights hasacriminal? Who listens to his voice ? 
So far as Raj knew, noone. He knew of no way to reach anyone 
who would listen. 

Then memories rushed over him like waves driven by raging 
winds. Time was nowhere now (he was thinking of the events 
of little over a year before, but they appeared most terribly 
remote). Was he the man who had waited for the women’s 
call, ““ A son, ason! To Seetha is born a son!” and hearing it 
had dashed off to the shrine to lay coco-nuts and flowers at the 
feet of his god? Could it be he, himself? What had happened 
before that ? What had happened after ? On rushed the waves ; 
he could not stay to remember what had happened before ; 
he could only hear through the hurrying winds the shouts of the 
second messenger who panted as he ran, “‘ Raj! Raj! Raj! 
The Yellow Paper is out against thee. Flee, Raj! Flee!” 

Yes, just as he was turning his happiness over and over, 
tasting it afresh with every recurring thought, suddenly joy 
like a frightened child ran from him and was gone. 

What of his children now? What was happening to them now ? 
Would a hand be stretched out toruin them ? What of the pretty 
little daughter? That apprehension, that terror, wrought in him 
like a delirium. What might not be happening to his children 
nows 


RAF ESCAPES 29 


The man, who had crossed the door of that police station a 
man of good will, ground his teeth and clenched his fists in an 
agony of fruitless rage. 


CHAPTER VII 
RA¥ ESCAPES 


But with a mighty effort he restrained himself. Surely he 
would soon be free. It had been promised. But no, he was 
taken away privately and questioned. He was told to confess. 

He said he had nothing to confess, except his flight when the 
Yellow Paper was served. Then he learned that crimes had been 
committed in his name, which he was to confess as his. Was it 
the Implacable again? “‘ Verily this is his hand,” said Raj to 
himself, but, struggling mightily for patience, he answered quietly: 

“ But I was in the Forest, in Colombo, in Penang.”’ 

“ Say thou didst them.” 

“T will not say so.” 

“There will be himsa.”’ 

“Let there be himsa, I care not. I will not say I did what 
I did not do.” 

Then there was himsa. The Sancrit word means slaughter, 
pain, affliction. In the part of the country to which the story 
refers, the word connotes anything unjust done in the name of 
justice : physical pain inflicted to extort a confession, blackmail, 
a false charge in court, the removal of small properties or money, 
insult public or private, vexation, rudeness. The exact shade 
of meaning is determined by the context. To Raj, standing 
with his hands tied behind his back, it meant first, flogging. 

He persisted in his denial. Then molten wax was dropped on 
his foot. Still he refused to confess. 

“To-morrow there will be the nail and hammer himsa.”’ 

“Even so, I will refuse.” 

The nail and hammer himsa is much dreaded. The foot is 
held, and a nail or strong thorn is put upon the root of the toe 
nail and tapped smartly with a small hammer. Few can resist 
it for long. 

Raj’s obstinacy angered his examiner. He struck him across 
the face with his sandal. 

With the blow something awoke in Raj. ‘“ Surely oppression 
maketh a wise man mad.” It was as if one had set a lighted 
match to a heap of tinder. A madness of fury seized him. 


30 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Before they could get him safe to the district jail, he was gone. 
With him was a boy, trapped as he had been trapped. Two others, 
guilty men both, had been in the lock-up with him. It was not 
a time for nice distinctions. He freed them all. Once in the 
forest, they were safe. 


CHAPTER VIII 
OUTLAWED 


But, even in the first hot rush for freedom, Raj thought of his 
children, and turned aside to see them. “‘ Each time he escaped 
he came first to us. It was very dangerous for him, for the 
polees always came first to our house ; but he was fain to see us.” 
Thus Delight, the little daughter, when the longing for her 
father could only be appeased by letting her talk of him. But 
he dare not linger, and he tore the children’s arms from his neck, 
and fled from their crying. For days he heard that crying, felt 
their tears wet on his cheeks. The rending asunder of flesh and 
spirit astonished him with its anguish. Till then some small 
gleam of hope may have illuminated his night. Now the last 
gleam was extinguished. He was an outlaw. 

The boy, Chotu, whom he had freed, was an outlaw too. They 
were what they had never thought of being, never desired to be. 
They were on the wrong side of that razor edge, the Law. The 
other two took it calmly. To Raj and the boy it was a thing to 
tremble at. Why had he not endured just a little longer? Per- 
haps the truth would have come out. But experience does not 
work hope where the false case is concerned. He remembered 
many things and was silent. It was Fate. Where the bull runs 
its rope follows. Had it not all been written in his forehead before 
he was born ? © 

For a while Raj tried hard to find a way by which he could 
live honestly. But wherever he turned, he met the inevitable ; 
as if a man did flee from a lion and a bear met him; or went 
into the house, and leaned his hand on the wall, and a serpent 
bit him. Offended Law in its might and majesty was out against 
him. How could he prove that the might and majesty of that 
same Law had been offended by another, before ever he broke 
into lawlessness? The position was intolerable to one who had 
been known as the One Word man of his village. He might 
have escaped to Penang again, and taken up life where he had 
left it, but something seemed to hold him fast to his own land. 
It was not only the children, though by this time he knew enough 


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A POET’S CORNER AND A MIGHTY KICK 31 


to know that they would be watched ; it was something more. 
It was land-love that held him and would not let him go. It 
was the long reaches of water, the streams, the woods, the hills. 
To this man every mile of plain and forest was dear. Every little 
nestling village, every mixed smell of those same villages, was 
as a cord that pulled and bound. But above all, the hills held him 
fast. To understand how fast, one must have heard for oneself 
the call of the mountains, that call that is hardly second in 
compelling power to the call of the great and wide sea. No, 
he would not leave India. Let the fates deal with him as they 
would, he would risk all and stay. 

Long afterwards, when the famous brigand made such excellent 
copy that columns about him appeared in the public ,Press, 
a suitable beginning being required to such a tale (as its creator 
confessed afterwards), it was invented: Raj was impoverished 
by the war; he had been a poacher before, and being strained 
by poverty was easily moved to crime. But the truth was dif- 
ferent. There was no strain of poverty. At the time of his fall 
a servant, who loved him and clave to him through the painful 
years that followed, was in charge of his very prosperous home 
affairs, while he travelled about with the produce of his sugar 
palms. There was no incentive to crime, no need for it but 
everything against it, till he was whirled off his feet by the passion 
that seized him when he was struck in the face, and broke loose, 
and became in name what he was not by character, a criminal. 

If only a wise strong friend had been near at that dreadful 
hour of decision when the die was cast, how different all would 
have been. But there wasnosuch one. There were only the two 
this breaker of jails had set free ; and their words were devilish. 


CHAPTER XI 
A POET’S CORNER AND A MIGHTY KICK 


OnE day, during the interval of uncertainty while Raj was 
seeking a way to live honestly without leaving his motherless 
children, he went to a town where he used to do business, and 
sought out a merchant who had entrusted him with large sums 
of money, and “never asked for a receipt, for no one asked 
Raj for receipts,” as the merchant’s son said in telling the tale. 
Raj was welcomed, and in the friendliness of the house he forgot 
his worries and entered into the talk about an expedition to 
a temple whose annual festival was due next day, and to which 


32 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


the family was going. Raj said he would go too, he and Chotu 
together. 

“But how?” asked the merchant’s son, knowing that Raj 
and Chotu could hardly march along the roads in broad daylight. 
“When you arrive in your bullock-cart, we shall meet you there 
on our feet,” laughed Raj. ‘‘ Look out for us.”’ And to the 
general amusement that was exactly what came to pass. As the 
bullock-cart drove up with a flourish and a jangle of bells, Raj 
and Chotu stepped out to meet it, and they all went together 
to the back of the temple where scores of earlier arrivals were 
wandering about talking, or sitting round the cooking fires 
| lighted here and there under the trees. For a religious festival 
in India.is a gigantic picnic, only of course each little coterie 
cooks apart and feeds apart. Mixing happily in the good- 
humoured crowd, Raj again forgot his troubles and they all made 
merry. 

That temple is a little, straggling, rather squat structure of 
hewn stone, stone-flagged, stone-roofed. It is set in the heart 
of acharming country, Mountains stand almost round it, a sheet 
of water lies near it, and behind runs a watercourse from whose 
further bank black rocks rise steeply and lead off straight to 
the hills. Two huge boulders, curiously shaped like lions, stare 
at one another; their twin reflections lie across the water. Seen 
when a large round copper-coloured moon is rising slowly behind 
palms where the hills open to the east, it is an enchanted land. 

Towards evening Raj went in to worship. 

Through the small vestibule he walked, through a narrow 
stone passage, through a square stone hall, to a kind of cell on 
whose left-hand side behind a grating was a symbol he held 
sacred. He stopped, and bowed low. It was dark there, but 
saucers of oil held lighted rags of twisted cotton stuff; the smell. 
of hot oil and the flicker of yellow flames are two of India’s many 
voices to the child of the land. Raj bowed and worshipped. 

Before him, as he stood in that cell, was a deep-set door, an 
unusual arrangement, but the temple is unusual. It is not called 
after the god whose symbol stands behind the grating and whose 
name has a beautiful meaning—the holy light of God—but by 
her name whose symbol waits behind that door. We have our 
Poet’s Corner. So has India. Springing arch, glorious window, 
or low-browed roof and a darkness lit by a fitful flame—the spirit 
that informs both is one, even the immortal that feels after some- 
thing beyond the prose of life, and worships at that secret altar 
set deep within the soul of man, that stands unshaken by the 
shocks of life, unless the man himself takes an axe in his hand 


A POET’S CORNER AND A MIGHTY KICK 33 


and smashes it and bows to the material. Raj had not done this 
yet ; in spite of what was too soon to be, never quite did it. So 
he stood there now, not as Esau that profane man who sold his 
birthright, and he pushed the heavy door ajar and stooped and 
went in. 

Before him as he stood in the profounder darkness of that 
hidden place was a long low barred enclosure, lighted from within 
by a few small lamps. Hardly at all did they illuminate the 
symbol of the woman who had written on her slips of palm leaf 
some say eight hundred, some say a thousand years ago. She 
had lived by the sounding sea, she had lived in great open spaces ; 
but Raj did not trouble himself by wondering why this woman 
of the open air should be worshipped in this silent cell; he stood 
and worshipped her. 

He owed much to her. He had crooned her stanzas over and 
over as a little boy at school, lapping up the sweetness of the 
sound of the words much as a puppy laps up milk, but bother- 
ing his head not at all about their meaning. That meaning 
had grown upon him as he discovered how difficult it was to 
carry any single one of the pearly words of wisdom into effect. 
Raj thought, as all his people think, either in neat moral axioms 
—he could reel off scores as he stood there, pages of the classics 
are made of nothing else—or in pictures filmed as it were on the 
mind, picture-sayings such as his poet’s about the golden vase 
and the earthen pot, whose shards everyone may see in a useless 
heap outside any Indian village. 

“As the shattered fragments of a golden vase,” she had said, 
“continue to be gold though the vessel is hopelessly broken, so 
the man who is noble by nature continues to be noble though he 
may be overwhelmed by disaster.”” She had pointed in contrast 
to the earthen pot. Shattered Raj was and apparently there 
was no way of mending himself; but it was his to choose the 
kind of ruin he would be. | 

And she had said that there is nothing victorious in violence : 
“The goad which pierces the elephant’s hide fails before cotton- 
down. The rock which cannot be split by an iron rod yields to 
the tender roots of the green tree.’’ It is gentleness therefore 
which is strong. Consciously or unconsciously Raj framed his 
new life and his robber rules on a pattern suggested by this picture- 
play of memory, and he made a rosary for himself like the rosary 
the devotee wears, and every berry on the string was a little word 
of wisdom gathered from the pictures as they passed. Well for 
him if he had remembered with equal tenacity and practised with 
equal fidelity other maxims of his poet, who, when she said, 

Cc 


34 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


“ Give alms to the poor,” did not mean, “ Give out of other 
people’s store.” But even in his worst days, when it seemed as 
if he had forgotten nearly all the good she had taught him, 
Raj opened up his rocks by means of the feeling root of the green 
tree. 

“The custom of robbers is to terrify and beat those whom 
they rob to inspire them with fear and so get all they have 
to give. But Raj never did this, and so even the robbed were 
grateful.’ In this upside-down way his injured countryside 
spoke of him afterwards; for great is the patience of India, and 
whom she loves she forgives. 

But alas for the contrasts of life! When Raj shut that little 
low-set door behind him, and walked back, erect now, to the 
vestibule of the temple that opened on the road, he walked 
straight into prose ; plain, emphatic, and extremely disreputable 
prose. 

Among the crowd on the road at that hour were two police- 
constables in plain clothes, or to be accurate, hardly any. One 
of these undressed persons moved forward now, and seized him 
by the arm. 

‘Raj, thou art Raj !”’ 

Raj turned on the man surprised. It was his first arrest. 
He did not like the feel of it. But the joke in things then as ever 
danced up to the rescue, and he meekly held out his arms and let 
the constable bind them with a white cloth. Then he sat down on 
the stone plinth and chuckled softly to himself. Meanwhile Chotu 
had been seized in the same way, but Chotu, tampered with, 
always saw red, and he gripped the stout stick which the con- 
stable held in his left hand when he snatched at Chotu with his 
right : “‘ Wilt free me or shall I give thee a clout on the head ? ”’ 
shouted Chotu. Then, in the twinkling of a second, the crowd, 
as it ran from all sides round about the door, saw Raj’s captor 
sprawling half-way across the road, and Raj and Chotu with a 
whoop were flying up the slope behind, and with a leap that was 
not soon forgotten they were across the watercourse, and standing 
on the rock behind. 

“Hai, you who would catch us,” shouted Raj. ‘‘ Come and 
catch us if you like! Come and catch us and let us crack your 
skulls. Haiho!” and he shouted rough derision after the already 
disappearing constables, and the people who preferred him to them 
were naughty enough to laugh. “‘ Why attempt what you could 
not achieve ?”’ they cried after the two who by this time were 
out of reach of Raj’s impolite remarks. And considering that 
those two had shown considerable pluck in tackling Raj at all, 


RAF BECOMES THE RED TIGER 35 


this was hardly fair. Then Raj and Chotu disappeared up the 
rocks and the festival people had food for conversation for many 
happy days. 

To this day the old priests in that temple chuckle: “Oh, the 
mighty kick, Oh, a mighty kick kicked he!” But it was a bare- 
foot kick ; it did not do the kicked one any deadly harm. 


CHAPTER X 
RA}# BECOMES THE RED TIGER 


ON an evening just before the die was cast, Raj went down to 
the Plains. 

There in the light of the setting sun, glowing like a jewel, he 
saw the red roof of his house set against the dark green of palm 
and plantain. That little house had been built with great interest 
and pride ; for most of the houses of those villages are thatched 
with palm leaves, and the red tiles, requiring as they did better 
timber, had been a matter of prolonged discussion ; the memory 
of the pleasure his father had taken in the almost imperishable 
wood was quick in him still, He drew nearer, crouching under 
the cactus hedge as he approached the outskirts of the village. 
Now he had come to his own street, near his own home; he 
looked at it and was dumb. Its open doorway gaped. The roof 
was broken, great gaps showed here and there; the shed roof 
and the verandah roof were battered in, and the timber had been 
carried away. Not a child, not an animal stirred in the little 
compound. The place was a desolation. With bursting heart 
he gazed at the house that was never more to be home to him, 
and he raised his hands to heaven in a gesture of despair, and 
turned sharp to the north towards his father-in-law’s village 
where his children were. 

His children—the thought of them quickened the hunger in 
him for the sight of their faces. So he hastened down the familiar 
lane, a steep-cut gully between high hedges of cactus, round by 
the water of a lake, steel-blue now in the twilight, and on till he 
came to a village, alone on the Plain. 

It was dark by now, and the people were indoors. India does 
not love the dark, it is too full of the movement of demons. 
Unless some lighted and noisy festival is going on, the doors are 
shut on the life outside the square-built low-roofed cottages that, 
set anyhow and anywhere, make a jungle village street. 

Raj who had walked, as it seemed but yesterday, a fearless 


od 


36 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


man along this very street, stole from shadow to shadow till he 
reached a house that wore a frightened look as it sat there, with 
never a glimmer in the night. Close under the thatch he stood, 
and tapped at the door. It opened carefully. 

“Tt is I, O father of my wife.” 

“Thou indeed, O husband of my daughter ? ” 

And with hands that fumbled over the fastenings of the lock, 
the old man opened the door. “ Softly, softly, there be watchers. 
There be listeners!” Softly, softly Raj slipped in. Then there 
was a low call, a rush of light-running feet, and his children were 
in his arms. For a little while no one spoke. No one could speak, 
for the strong man broke down for once, and wept, and the 
children cried for sympathy. Even the valiant little son, unused 
to tears, cried till his father wiped the tears away with his big 
gentle hand, gentle as a woman’s to his last day. 

Then they brought the baby from his swinging hammock, 
and the boy’s eyes filled again as his father wept afresh at the 
sight of the child so like the dead mother, and they talked to- 
gether in muffled whispers: but there was nothing glad to talk 
about, and at last the father nerved himself for the parting. 
Then the lamp was blown out, and the door opened, and leaving 
behind him a little sobbing heap of distress, he slipped out into 
the night. 

But what lay before him now? 

His seven strong bulls had been sold to get ready money for 
his defence. And now there could be no defence. His flight, 
as he knew now, would help to prove his guilt. And, were further 
proof required, he knew to within a few rupees how much it 
would cost to supply it ; for it is no fiction, but just fact, that in 
India evidence is a thing bought and sold like any other valuable, 


| only more privately, and he who can bid most gets it. 


Quietly, but with a burning in him like the burning of a slow 
fire that might leap into flame at any moment, Raj thought of 
all these things; thought of the triple oath; of the snapping 
down of the teeth of the trap ; of the smiting on the face with the 
sandal; of the smiting of the woman, his wife; of the insults 
poured on her, more cruel than any smiting, as she stood with her 
child in her arms at the door of the little house; of that house 
made desolate ; of the malevolence that would pursue him to the 
last ditch, even as it had pursued and overtaken the hapless five. 
What gave power to the evil to work evil? Gold. And his soul 
revolted against this tyranny of gold. 

Then the fire in him leaped up; and from the double flame, 
indignation against stark injustice and a desperate sense of 


RA} BECOMES THE RED TIGER 37 


impotenee,. was born the thought that to take from _the_rich 
and give to the poor cannot be called asin, Blindly, confusedly, 
he argued with himself, the best in the man rising up in protest, 
the despair in him pulling down. He was Raj the Truthful.to 
the end, but he took for his brigand name another, less worthy ; 
let men call him the Red Tiger; the very name would strike 
terror in the hearts of the rich and fearful travellers on the road. 


So he became the Red Tiger, and what had become of Seetha’s 
prayer ? 


PART II 


Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth, 
The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth :— 
Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of earth. 


Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold ; 

Mine be a handful of ashes, a ‘mouthful of mould. 

Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind, in the rain and the cold— 
Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tales be told. 


JouN MASEFIELD. 


CHAPTER I 
THE TIGER’S COUNTRY 


ND now Raj flung himself into his new life with a zest that 
astonished all who had known him as an honest sugar 
merchant. And never was a country that lent itself more will- 
ingly to crime, 
For the mountains that sweep in half-circles to the sea are 
_ threaded with little valleys, and deep ravines, and secret recesses. 
pe knew every hidden cave in them. He had been a keen hunter 
_in old days, and had a hunter’s sense of direction, and he was wise 
_in woodcraft. He could find his way anywhere: given the lowest 
' bush, merest outcrop of rock, he could efface himself, and you 
might look, but you would not see him. He trained his followers 
so that one moment they could be robbing a cart on the road, and 
the next—where? For the roads are often bordered by great 
old trees, and sometimes immense tumbled rocks are near, and 
they lead up at once to the hills. 
t Then for retreat, what a land of desire that country was with 
its depth of primeval forest and countless caves! A tropical 
forest is commonly considered unsafe for men at night; but 
Raj knew his namesake’s lair among the elephant grass on the 
lower slopes. The panther who leaps from the bough overhead, 
the big black monkey, with a horde of lion-tails at his back, 
who will dare to attack man and is feared even by forest folk— 
they were nothing to him. Even the red dog who hunts in packs 
and tears out the throat of his quarry was of no account. ‘‘ He 
fears not even Red Dog,’ the people would say in awe-struck 


38 


THE TIGER’S COUNTRY 39 


tones when they heard the hunting yell of the pack, a noise 
which carries far and frightens men at night. And however wet 
the woods (and round the wet twigs in those woods coil flat- 
headed snakes, which are always poisonous, and may be deadly) 
he would push his way through, thrusting back the branches 
with his bare hands as if snakes were his sisters. And once he 
trod on a cobra, which, as his foot lifted, rose and spread its 
hood ; but Raj went on unstruck. He heeded the cobra as little 
as the python that straddled across the path like a huge rope 
with gleaming eyes, or the inoffensive elephants or bison that 
roamed through the swamps and level parts of the forest, or the 
innocent sambhur that browsed on the fine grass in the open 
glades and the young leaves on the budding trees. So men began 
to say he wore a charm, and his many escapes from under the 
very eye of the law bore them out in this. He began to be counted 
as something more than mere man, and the legends that grew 
up round him did not help the law in the business of his 
capture, 

Nor was that event forwarded by his extraordinary character. 
He would turn a robbed victim into a friend for life, and did so , 


constantly. Only those robbed by his men became his foes, and 1 ‘ 
even some of them he won to affection by that mixture of courage | ~ ~“?>™ 


and gentleness, friendliness and fun, that distinguished him where- ‘ 
ever he went. And then there were continually quick freaks of » 
contrition, and the robbed gold would be returned with apologies, 
and Raj would order his men to escort the amazed people safely 
over the frontier, “for there be many robbing in my name.” 
Mercies like these shut men’s mouths. 

For Raj made a new game of robbing, and sometimes the grosser 
element of his band gave trouble. 

“ Blacken my name, wilt thou, thou jackal? ’’ and he would 
drop with a heavy hand on a ruffian who had taken a woman’s 
marriage token, the golden trinket which hangs round the neck 
from a golden chain. ‘ Take anything thou wilt, but touch not 
that.” 

But there is a true story which shows his taking the token. 
He was on the road one day, when a cart passed with a young 
wife and her old husband sitting inside. Raj stopped the cart. 
Instantly the husband disappeared into the bushes near the road, 
leaving his young wife to face Raj alone. Raj asked for her 
jewels, which she gave him, retaining only her marriage trinket. 
But Raj had other ideas. 

“Lady,” he said, “that old husband of yours is a rank 
coward. Instead of standing by you to protect your person and 


40 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


property, he has run away. The marriage token of such a 
coward does not deserve to be on your neck,” 

He had stern ways with his men. Vina, one of his band, was 
distinguished by a dreadful ruthlessness. One day even in Raj’s 
presence he seized a woman and began to tear off the jewels and 
to threaten to drag her away. ‘‘ Hands off,’’ shouted Kaj, beside 
himself with fury, “‘ Hands off, thou villain—or I shoot.” And 
Vina drew off. Then Raj rated him soundly and gave him a 
lesson in polite robbing. 

“ Kindly give us thy jewels,” he said to the woman, “ we 
have need of them.” And she gave them. She went home and 
told of it, saying (and all agreed with her), ‘“‘ What did the loss 
matter in comparison with the horror of insult? ’’ And Vina, 
thus roughly disciplined, mended his manners. 

To the end of the chapter Raj was the same, a champion of 
women, and ready with a heavy hand to come down upon 
cowardly men. The old husband, who left his wife to face Raj 
alone, met his punishment in the town to which he belonged ; 
not a tongue but pointed the moral. There was another husband 
who, in the days when the hunt for Raj was at its height, took 
his medicine from the same fearless hand. This man had de- 
serted his wife, who was mourning and longing for his return. Raj 
went to him. He was a man of good position (even as the old 
man had been); but Raj cared for none of these things. He 
warned him that if he did not give up his evil ways and behave 
properly to his wife he, Raj, would see to him, a threat that could 
bear several unpleasant interpretations. 

He strictly forbade night robbing. “‘ Nay, that is common 
thieving. What is it to meifit be profitable? Itis deceit ; it is 
vile. Why take an unfair advantage over them even if they be 
rich? It is their business to guard their women. If they hang 
jewels on them like the red figs on the banyan ”’ (no hyperbole, a 
woman will carry as much as two hundred pounds worth of gold 
in chains, earrings, necklets, and bangles, most tempting bait to 
dangle before a robber’s eyes), “ then verily it is their own look- 
out if we take them. But touch not their stuff at night.” 

Ballads were written about the Red Tiger, and dedicated to 
Krishna. They called him the Daylight Robber, the gallant, the 
courageous, hero of heroes, brave of the braves, and many other 
foolish praiseful names, for his pluck and daring had glamoured 
them; “‘ Come, ye dancing children, hearken to the tale of him 
who scorns to rob at night.’’ All over the country, in a rhythmic 
dance played with striking of sticks together, children sang these 
ballads which were sold in the trains and on the roads in spite of 





Photo by H,. F. Saunders 


THE TIGER’S COUNTRY 


This shows the nature of the country in which Raj took refuge after his first escape from jail. 
It is threaded with little valleys, deep ravines andsecret recesses, and he knew every hidden cave 
in them. (Page 38.) 


er es te he 
ae ee 
: oy)! 


- 
rhe 
‘ HOP 
' 
I aft 
\ v 


<i 


Ml 4 

Les of os 
yy a ae 
ai mn ‘ ef 





THE TIGER’S WAYS 4I 


efforts to stop them. All this was sweet incense to Raj. His 
robber shout, ‘‘ Hai-ho the Red Tiger!” was hardly ever re- 
sisted. But people tell how sometimes in the midst of a successful 
raid it was as if compunction had suddenly seized him and he 
would stop, and hold back his men, or run to help someone up 
who had fallen, or even, incredible as it may sound, comfort 
someone who was crying. “ Let him be,”’ he said once to Chotu 
about a merchant whom that lusty youth had seized, ‘‘ Let him 
be.” ‘“‘ To thee every man is a brother,” grumbled Chotu, sore 
at the loss of a handful of rupees. 

But the riff-raff of the country found him out and gathered 
round him, He led a band in the adjoining Native State, and 
became known as a dacoit—dacoity is gang robbery. In British 
India fifteen or more called him Chief. The boy, Chotu, whom + 
he had set free, was his devoted follower. This boy was not riff- 
raff, but he was well on the way to become a very accomplished 
young scamp ; for the unkind fates had not softened his naturally 
dare-devil nature, and he was too readily shaping to the life of 
crime to which, as it seemed, he had been driven by irresistible 
powers. 


CHAPTER II 
THE TIGER’S WAYS 


THREE years later, when two thousand rupees were offered as 
reward for the capture of Raj and Chotu, a caste man, belonging 
to a town on one of the roads where in those days Raj had robbed 
with his band, met a Christian schoolmaster, and said to him: 

“Tf only the Sirkar would make Raj the bead of the police, 
how good it would be! Then we should have justice done to all. 
We should have the poor protected.” And at the same time, 
looking upon the matter from an opposite angle, a letter to the 
Press remarked that the easiest solution of the problem of what 
to do, as he could not be caught, would be to proclaim a free 
pardon to the Red Tiger and promise him employment in the 
detective department. ‘ Would that he were appointed to look 
after the well-being of the people!” It was the general lay talk 
till it was effectually silenced, and it contrasted oddly with the 
official, 

And now in these early days, sitting on the raised plinth round 
the sacred fig-tree in the evenings, men discussed him; and so 
did the women sitting round the little fires in their secluded 
kitchens, And the talk would fill books. The stories grew, of 


42 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


course, as they passed from mouth to mouth. There was one 
that showed him facing a heartless husband with the question, 
‘“Lovest better thy wife or thy money? ’’ When the man, 
hoping it would be spared to him, said, ‘‘ My money,” the Red 
Tiger promptly carried both wife and money off. The wife he 
took to her own home, and to her father he said, “‘ Take care of 
her. He is not fit to have a wife.” 

The seed from which this flower of fancy sprang was in truth 
sown by the father himself : 

“My daughter is unhappy,” he had said to Raj, “ her hus- 
band is cruel. Canst thou make peace?” 

So Raj went to the house of that man, and in his friendly way 
put before him the happiness of peace at home, The man 
listened unkindly. He had no heart of love towards his wife, 
and he made her life hard to live. Raj waited a little; then, 
finding he continued cruel, he carried the wife off and gave her 
to her father. 

One day, where the road forks down to the sea, Raj and his 
men waited for the coming of a bandy said to be full of richly 
jewelled women. It proved, however, to be empty, save for one 
woman, whose husband did as the other husband did; he 
hurriedly departed. Raj’s men gave chase, and brought him to 
their Captain. 

“You coward, you skunk, you abject insignificant insect, you 
could leave your wife to fall into our hands!” and Raj gave the 
unfortunate man a mighty shake. ‘“‘ Take him, O brothers, and 
teach him his manners.” And nothing loath, they did so, with 
good sounding smacks that sent him howling to his cart. 

Up in the forests there are thousands of acres of valuable trees. 
There are guards appointed for their protection, but certain of 
the people on the Plains are interested in that timber, and have 
ways known to themselves of appropriating it. Ina great tract 
of forest where many young teak trees grow (young teak which 
can easily be cut down and slipped off), the saplings continued 
to disappear in spite of the forest guards, who, fearing they would 
be fined, called Raj. 

“Set a watch,” they said, ‘‘ and see that these thieves of the 
Sirkar’s property take no more of it and, if it may be, catch them 
for us. Our pay will be docked if this goes on. ‘‘ Raj was loyal to 
the Sirkar (Government of India), highway robber though he 
was, and he resented this pilfering of Government property. So 
he and his men lay in ambush among the rocks, and, springing 
up as the gang of thieves were dragging the young saplings off, 
they caught them red-handed. 


THE TIGER’S WAYS 43 


There was a wild scuffle in the:depths of that forest then. 
The men were soon one on top of the other, his and theirs in an 
indistinguishable heap of struggling arms and legs. 

“Who is on top? Who is on top?” Raj shouted, and one 
of his men shouted back, ‘‘ I am below.” He shot then, meaning 
to cripple the thief on top, but at that moment the heap upheaved, 
and the shot struck his own man. 

This man, Undu, the Rat, was of the meanest, and no loss to 
the band (‘ Afflictive indeed is friendship with the uncongenial,”’ 
says the reputed brother of Raj’s favourite woman poet). No- 
body fretted much about the Rat as he crawled down the hill, 
and it did not occur to Raj that Undu would bear a grudge 
against him. But the wounded robber, now easily caught, was 
soon arrested, and, filled with rancour, turned King’s evidence. 
So the Red Tiger’s robberies were the least of his iniquities. It 
was only by mere good luck that he had not murdered a man. 
“A ruffian, a picturesque ruffian if you like, but dangerous for 
all that ’’—that was Raj. 

His crimes were black enough. All along the mountains his 
name was known as a brigand chief. He would watch with his 
band for the rich women who went on pilgrimage to the temple 
a thousand feet up in the forest. These he would “ politely 
request ’’ to remove their chains and bangles. That polite re- 
quest, quoted all over the country as the characteristic trait in 
this new kind of brigandage, was rarely resisted. Especially he 
loved to lighten them of the necklets made of sovereigns which 
everywhere are coveted. Then he would go to the main road, 
and wait for the rice-carts which brought in rice from distant 
fields to the less fertile parts of the country. He would calmly 
ask the men its price, never condescending to bargain, but 
always accepting the price as it stood ; so sellers of rice approved 
of him. 

He would wait while it was measured out, and then pay in 
full, or tell them where to go to get their money; and no one 


ever trusted him and was deceived. His men would carry the a 


sacks off then, and distribute the rice to the poorest of the poor. | | 


When he robbed it was his custom to say, “Go to the police || | 


and tell them this is the Red Tiger’s work,”’ and this new and 
provoking kind of crime was more dangerous to the community 
than if it had been more ordinary in procedure, for its very un- 


usualness, the contrition mixed up so perplexingly in it, and, | 


above all, the coolness and courage and dash that baffled every- 


body, made a most unwholesome halo for the robber captain. / 


It was all as bad as it could be for Raj, who was only a man who 


rd 


rsa 


44 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


might have been a power on the side of right, fast hastening 
towards destruction, For about a year, quick with excitement 
and the thrill of escape, he lived scatheless. Flying from the 
' roads in the dusk of the evening he would lead his men up the 
crags and into the heart of the forest by the light of moon or 
‘ stars. And in the wild beasts’ world he made home for them all. 


CHAPTER III 
THE POINTING FINGER MUST BE CUT OFF 


“THE pointing finger must be cut off.” Or, “ Will not the 
pointing finger be cut off? ” It is one of India’s wisest sayings. 
It is not an obsolete proverb. To prove it, let anyone, however 
reluctantly, however loyally, dare to touch upon wrong en- 
trenched in the Authority of his day and generation; let his 
eye be never so single, let his only urging be pity for the suffering 
of those that have no helper, even so, let him open his mouth 
for the dumb, and there will be a wounding and a grieving. The 
pointing finger must be cut off. 

But let the pointing finger belong to an outlaw to begin with, 
and what fate but cutting off can possibly be expected? Raj, 
for all his wrongdoing, stood forth as the single figure that dared 
to stand and point. He spoke openly of himsa. And openly he 
carried a gun to protect himself from it. He regarded police 
guns not as defence for the innocent, but simply as butt-ends, 
by which men might be clubbed to make them confess to sins 
they either had or had not committed. He knew of the himsa 
in which two men stand one on each side of the victim and 
simultaneously prod him with those same butt-ends in such a 
way that the pain conveyed is the maximum that can be inflicted 
by that method. He knew of the hot brick pressed between the 
hands tied behind a man’s back and the bare skin over his spine ; 
oi the needles thrust into the quick of the nail to extort con- 
fession—and no one who has seen the haunted face of the man 
who has endured this himsa, either in its least form, the one 
needle hisma, or in any of its ascending degrees up to that known 
as the twenty needle himsa, can ever be as one who has not seen. 
He knew, too, of the red-hot wire run into the ear, of the tying 
of the feet to a beam with the head held over the smoke of a fire 
in which chillies had been thrown. 

All this and more he knew, as all who live on the floor of India 
know, and he openly spoke of it, cried aloud to the heavens‘that 


THE POINTING FINGER MUST BE CUT OFF 45 


never seemed to hear, said—‘‘Is it right? Is it just? ’”’ and 
sometimes it was only the withholding mercy of God that came 
between him and deadly crime; that, and the love of fair play 
that was planted deep within him, for he could not strike those 
whom he held responsible for these things, and their instruments 
were less guilty. But the days were so full of his own wrong- 
doing that there was little room left for influences that made for 
goodness or forbearance, and twice Raj was nearly involved in- 
darker crime than had dyed his hands as yet. 

The first time was when Delight was hurt. She was then a 
motherly girl of eight, burdened always by the anxiety of a 
motherless child with younger brothers whose well-being is a 
constant care. She was looking after the baby one evening, 
when two forms of fear approached the cottage. 

“ Where is thy father ? ” 

“T do not know.” 

“Thou dost know. Tell us, or we will beat thee.” 

But Delight did not know, nor would she have told if she had 
known. The boy was snatched up then and carried off and 
questioned. 

“When was thy father last here?’’ But he turned solemn 
eyes on his questioners. No one has discovered the way to make 
that boy speak if he does not intend to doso. He shook his head, 
then apparently thinking better of it, said, ‘‘ He was here to- 
morrow.’’—It was not bluff, he was too small for that, and it did 
not occur to them that he meant “‘ yesterday.”” So they gave 
him up, and returned to the sister. They tore her jewels off, and 
a blow with a butt-end of a gun threw her senseless on the floor. 
The old grandparents raised the death-wail ; the neighbours who 
had scurried away to their dark little houses at the sight of the 
men with guns now rushed out, forgetting their fear for Delight’s 
sake ; she was lifted into the old grannie’s lap, and the bleeding 
head was plastered with a gruesome paste. Nothing can efface 
the fear of that day from her mind. At the sight of a gun she 
shrinks away like a wounded animal. 

The second time was when the old grandfather was taken 
and beaten so that he all but died. His friends took him to 
hospital then, and he says, with the queer twisted patience of 
the old, ‘“‘ Yes, they healed me. But when it came to paying for 
my sore bones I had to pay for them myself. It was told me 
that there was an inquiry, and someone paid something to some- 
one, but to whom, how should I know? About thirty rupees 
(two pounds) was the sum. It was a fine. I wish,” he adds 
reflectively, ‘‘ I greatly wish it had been paid to me.” 


46 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


These things reached Raj. He was sportsman enough then 
and afterwards to realize that Law had to catch him if it could. 
But this was not in the bond, and it did not make him more 
respectful towards the powers that be. He had never seen those 
powers as we of other lands know them, or as those know them 
in India who live where the heads of the various orders move, 
each in his lighted orbit. For him, as for countless thousands, 
the powers meant only those men who push their unwanted way 
into the frightened villages that shiver at the sight of them ; for 
the dreaded “ false case ’’ hangs like a double-edged sword over 
every man in such a community who has in any way offended 
the powerful of his neighbourhood. And the hair that holds that 
sword from falling is only a bit of silver wire that may snap at 
any moment. No, Raj had scant regard for the powers, as dis- 
tinguished from the ultimate head. He thought of that mysterious 
being much as he thought of the Deity standing far back behind 
the lesser gods. If he could only reach the Great all would be 
well. And he continually tried to appeal direct. But he soon 
discovered that, just as he found the Deity elusive, inaccessible, 
when, pressed by a sense of the unsatisfactory nature of his 
dealings with the lesser gods, he tried to press through to the 
Enthroned, so the human Great receded when he sought to press 
through by the only way he knew; and beaten back on himself 
he grew reckless, and took a mad pleasure in provoking those 

' whose business it was to stop his lawlessness. 

Once he had the good fortune and the audacity to catch one 
of them out. That story, shouted by the delighted women, was 
all over the country within an hour of its happening. 

For one day Raj and his band, waiting behind the boulders 
that just there line the road, saw a man dash out upon a passing 
cart, and heard him shout, “ Ho! I am the Red Tiger. Give me 
your jewels.” 

This was milk-and-honey to the captain, who signed to his 
men to keep quiet, while the fraud held the bullock-cart driver 
and ordered the women to undo the clasps of their gold trinkets 
and peel off their numerous bangles. 

Raj waited grimly till this was accomplished, and his men, 
quivering with eagerness, held themselves still till he gave the 
signal. 

Then with a roar and a howl and the very snarl of the tiger 
himself, Raj was on top of that man, and his men were tying 
him up. The women found their hands filled with their jewels 
almost before they realized what had happened, and heard Raj’s 
voice, very quiet (he had the quietest of speaking voices), say 


ON SPECIAL DUTY 47 


to them, “He is a degenerate policeman. Take him to the 
police station.”” And the trussed-up wretch was tossed into the 
little seat beside the driver, and off went the cart, the gayest 
of the gay. 

In ways like this, annoying ways, Raj pointed the finger. And 
to point is the unpardonable sin. 


CHAPTER IV 
ON SPECIAL DUTY 


AND he laughed: This was galling for, in spite of knowing, as he 
must have known, that if he were caught he would pay for it, 
Raj continued to regard the means taken for his arrest as a huge 
joke, and sometimes he would go to the police station got up in 
some ridiculous disguise, and give valuable information about 
that elusive beast, the Red Tiger; and sometimes he would 
appear as a fellow-detective, sent on special duty. There was 
no end to his vexing devices, and the people, who unfortunately 
nowhere love the Force, laughed with him. 

“Lo, he comes.” 

“ Hush! Breathe not.” 

It was Raj to his men who were drawn round a table set out 
in the middle of the road far from any town. On the table a 
candle burned unsteadily, blown about in the night air. The 
men sat drinking, playing cards, and talking. A gun lay across 
the table. The bullock-cart trailing along the dark road drew 
nearer. 

‘Stop! Who goes there ? ”’ 

It was the leader of the cheerful drinkers who called out the 
command and the question, and his men held up the cart and 
carefully examined its contents, as if they did not know exactly 
what they were, an unbeloved Inspector, and his gun. 

“IT am on special duty,” explained the leader of the group 
round the table. “I thought your honour might most happily 
_be Raj the brigand.”’ And he saluted, and the cart went on. In 
the flickering light of a candle lapses in uniform do not stare one 
in the face. There was nothing to betray the revellers who 
smothered their feelings till the cart was out of hearing. Then 
they had a royal time. Life was worth living that night. 

And again—and this happened at noon close by a country 
town with its police station at that hour most busily buzzing— 
a diligent officer bicycled past, and stopped to ask a quiet-looking 


48 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


man by the wayside if he had seen anything of the notorious 
brigand who was reported in the neighbourhood. The man 
answered civilly that he imagined he might be under a bridge 
not far away; he had seen somebody lying on a stone as he 
passed. Would the police officer kindly give him a pinch of 
snuff? This was obligingly given, the civil man salaamed, and 
off went Bicycle. And off went Tiger. But the man under the 
bridge was annoyed. 

Much more annoyed was Sakuni, another official, whom for 
certain good reasons Raj had determined to harry. Raj had no 
opinion of reptile ways; stinging from below, or stabbing in the 
back, either metaphorically or otherwise, had no attraction for 
him; but how reach Sakuni who was a very great person and 
far out of reach of a mere brigand chief? He turned this matter 
over in his mind, and at last hit upon a plan which satisfied his 
sense of the fitness of things. 

One hot afternoon saw him and his men settled behind the 
boulders near the Split Rock, one of his favourite rendezvous. 
Presently there was a placid jangle of bullock bells and a bullock- 
cart moved into the picture, its driver half asleep, its occupants 
more than half asleep, its bulls walking in their sleep. 

With a whoop and a shout of “‘ Ho! the Red Tiger!” his men 
were out on the road. The cart stopped. Raj advanced, and 
the women hurriedly poured their jewels into his hands out- 
stretched to receive them. 

“ Descend, O women.” And they tumbled out. 

A cloth was spread on the bank by the roadside. Raj dropped 
his handfuls of gold and silver trinkets on the cloth, bundled it 
up, and tied it at the corners. 

“ Now, just as swiftly as may be, go to Sakuni and say to him, 
‘ This is the Red Tiger’s work.’ Give him a list of the jewels.” 

“ Fear not, I will take good care of them,” he called after the 
cart as the driver, now wide awake, urged on his bulls. Neither 
he nor the women had the remotest idea of what the game was, 
and exceedingly dreaded any kind of interview with Sakuni, but 
who disobeyed the Red Tiger? About their jewels the women 
had no anxiety, but how he would carry this mad prank off 
thoroughly perplexed them. What was Raj going todo? How 
get those precious things back to them ? And what in the name 
of common-sense possessed him? They knew Raj, for they were 
from a village where one of his men had a married sister, and, 
after the first moment of panic before they recognized him, they 
were too muddled by the unexpectedness of his proceedings to 
have sense to ask questions. Not that that mattered. They 





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FAME 49 


would not have been answered. So, as mystified as they were 
intended to be, they did as they had been bidden to do, and the 
carts trundled on. 

But Sakuni was not to be found, and, secretly much relieved, 
they returned to the Split Rock where Raj was waiting. 

He asked them if they had honestly tried to find Sakuni, for 
he appreciated their reluctance to appeal to that particular arm 
of the law. They assured him they had, and he believed them. 
“Come, retrieve your treasures,’ he said, and each hunted 
through the bundle till she had found her finery to the last 
toe-ring. 

So the joke Raj had hoped for did not come off, and it was 
disappointing. He had imagined a much more exciting end to 
the story. What a thoroughly good joke it would have been to 
wait till Sakuni and his men arrived, then snatch up the bundle 
of jewels, scramble up the hill behind the Split Rock, wave his 
booty in their disgusted faces, and disappear with it into the 
hidden cave of which they knew nothing. The women would 
have been charmed ; the countryside would have laughed. What 
a joke to embroider round the camp-fire in the evening! Well, 
better luck next time, he told himself. But when next time came, 
the luck was all on the other side. Sakuni had heard of it, and 
he had an excellent memory. 


CHAPTER V 
FAME 


But the most scandalous of Raj’s pranks was played by means 
of three or four uniforms borrowed from the Native State which 
knew Raj so well. Thus arrayed, he and his men appeared at an 
outlying village and hurried the police stationed there in different 
directions to arrest, if possible, the Red Tiger and his band who, 
as he correctly informed them, had been seen quite lately some- 
where in their near neighbourhood. When they had gone, Raj 
swiftly appropriated two rifles, and joined the pursuit. From 
this he went on “ to inspect ” another posse of police. He never 
stayed long enough anywhere to arouse suspicion, but played 
his short game to a finish, and then was a sadhu and lolled along 
the road and begged from his hunters as they returned empty- 
handed, or a pedlar, trudging patiently to market ; or anything 
else that struck his fancy. 

Once he was almost caught. He and Chotu were alone that 


D 


50 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


day and the village was being searched. There was no way out, 
and no way of staying in. A stack of straw stood near the house 
where they were. They bought it as it stood, plucked enough of 
it to make two huge loads such as coolies carry on their heads ; 
the pendent mass covers most of the man. Laden thus they 
slouched out, their meek and vacant faces, for Raj acted the 
part he wished to play whether he was being observed or not, 
well buried in the straw. 

Sometimes the band was unexpectedly recruited. One day 
they came upon an old man sleeping under a tree by the roadside. 
He looked as if he might have something worth taking tucked 
in the fold of his single garment, a sheet of white cotton worn 
folded round the waist. One of the band stooped over and 
touched him on the shoulder. 

The old man started up alarmed. “‘ Give what is in thy waist - 
cloth ! ”’ 

‘“‘ Alas!’ said the old man, ‘‘ I have come from far, I am a 
poor man seeking the Red Tiger.” 

“And wherefore ?’’ demanded the Tiger himself, coming 
forward and more than a little ashamed, for he was not out to 
worry the poor. 

“The talk has reached us that he is merciful to the poor who 
are in adversity. I am poor and I am in adversity; and so I 
sought him.” 

This pleased Raj immensely ; and after that he used to go in 
disguise to markets to hear what the people were saying, till he 
grew to think it a fine thing to be known as Raj the Tiger, 
friend of the poor ; and the false fame killed the shame that had 
been in him at first, and the ballads sung about him began to 
sound good in his ears. 

He had ways of his own for discovering who was worth help- 
ing. One day a man was robbed by his band, and he begged 
to be allowed to keep a part, as he wanted it for his son’s wedding. 
It was to buy the marriage-token, he said. Raj returned it. 
“ But at the wedding thou must say that I did this,’’ he told the 
man, who promised he would. And he kept his promise ; before 
all the guests he told the tale and named Kaj as, in a sense, the 
giver of the marriage-token. Presently he felt a touch on his 
arm, and turning, saw a stranger arrayed in the garments of a 
wedding-guest. ‘“‘Thou art a true man,” said a voice in 
his ear that he recognized. ‘‘ Thou shalt never be troubled 
by me.” 


T'HE BANYAN-BORDERED ROAD 51 


CHAPTER VI 
THE BANYAN-BORDERED ROAD Kudu 


By this time Raj had become a menace to the peace of the 
district. He dared the police to catch him. He helped himself 
to what he chose, no man (effectually) forbidding. He was an 
out-and-out brigand, and none of the stories of his curious kind- 
ness or contritions, stillless of his outrageous defiance of Authority, 
are meant for a moment to give an impression of half-heartedness 
in his chosen career. And yet, for it is the way of India, the kind 
little things he continually did washed out like a wet sponge the 
reckoning of the slate. And some among the castes he most 
wantonly attacked became his most fervent friends. 

One day, in a Government hospital near the mountains, the 
assistant-surgeon died, and his widow, not unjewelled, for to 
unjewel was not the custom of her caste, prepared to travel back 
to her own country. 

The road which led over the frontier was perfect for robber 
purposes. Great old banyans bordered it for miles. Their roots , 
were of the longest and thickest ; they made dusky brown rooms | 


with walls that swept the ground like skirts ; and over the inter- | ~~ 


laced tops of those trees one might walk as on house roofs; Raj | 
loved that road. And now the bullock-cart with its tempting ° 
bunch of jewelled women lumbered slowly into sight, and Raj 
stood forth. The cart was driven by a drowsy servant-boy with 
his inadequate bits of rope for reins, and for whip a stick with a 
piece of twine tied to the end of it. To Raj’s polite but imperious 
demand, the widow wept and said, “‘ Alas, I am but lately 
widowed.’ And the heart of Raj smote him. “ Forgive me,” 
he said gently, “‘ forgive me. Not one of my band shall touch 
thee or thy friends. But there are some who are robbing in my 
name. We shall see thee safe to the frontier.”’ And this he did, 
walking alongside her cart, he and his men, till they came to the 
mountain pass which marked the boundary. 

One day an old man who had been kind to Raj when he was a 
boy passed down the same banyan-bordered road, and Raj was 
out for loot that day, so his band stopped the traveller. 

“What need of rings ? Give the gold ring !”’ 

The old man took his heavy gold ring off his finger, but, 
catching the name of the boy he had once known well and greatly 
loved, he cried it aloud reproachfully. 

And Raj heard it. Quick shame overwhelmed him. He came 
forward and fell at the old man’s feet. 


52 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF - 


‘“O pardon, pardon!’”’ he cried as he returned the ring and 
touched the old man’s feet in reverent obeisance. 

It was often so. The lightest appeal to the best in him woke 
instant response. He would stop, those who knew him say, and 
shame would sweep over him in a hot flood. It was so one day 
when he hailed a cart full of Brahman women who were going to 
worship in a temple near the mountains. Raj, to whom the rich 
were always fair game, ordered the driver to stop. 

One of the women looked out, and saw Raj. She knew the 
futility of expostulation, and called out (lest by coming near his 
shadow should fall on her or any of the women and ceremonially 
defile their caste), “‘ Stay, brother, stay! Wait there.’”” And she 
waved her hand towards a place at a little distance. “I will 
throw the jewels down and thou canst pick them up.” But she 
had used a word for brother that connotes protector, and appeals 
to any sense of chivalry a man may possess. 

“ Brother, do you call me ? ”’ Raj cried abashed, addressing her 
by the highest honorific he knew, and drawing back at once. 
And he begged her pardon and the pardon of all who were in 
the cart, and, as he had escorted the widow, so he escorted the 
Brahmans, till they came to a place where there was no fear of 
anyone giving them trouble. 

Sometimes his men were much annoyed by these scruples, 
and attempted argument; but he would have none of it. He 
was captain of his band and, save on one disastrous day when they 
broke loose and plunged into iniquity which steeped his name 
in pitch, they obeyed him, wild and wicked as some of them were. 
“For he had a way with him,” said one of them once. ‘‘ Not one 
of us dared cross him or wanted to do so. Only such as Undu 
the Rat hated him and worked him evil. And we loved him. 
He would turn a rough word with a kind one. He bound us to 
himself. Look at Druti.’’ Druti was a lad who had once robbed 
with Raj, but had given it up. When, later on, Raj escaped from 
jail, this boy risked capture to wait on him. He could have en- 
riched himself by betraying him, but he would have given his 
life for him. 

Before his day of freedom ended Raj took many an opportunity 
to warn off others who would have joined his band, drawn by 
the stories of adventure, and the glorious lure of fun. “ If they 
only knew how much naughtier I might be than I am, they 
wouldn’t be so hard on me,” said a very naughty small child 
once, when she was called upon to pay the price of her trans- 
gressions. When Raj’s story began to open out, there were times 
when that view of things seemed to have something in it. But, 


THE BANYAN-BORDERED ROAD 53 


of course, the law of the land has nothing to do with such 
follies. 

Among Raj’s countless friends was his cousin, a strapping 
young fellow called Pon, who was a student of magic and of 
music, a curious combination but full of interesting possibilities. 
Pon was often called to play his stringed instrument when there 
was special worship at the village shrines. Sometimes he became 
entranced, and that strange demonic possession known as the 
afflatus came upon him, and he saw visions and spoke as an oracle. 
Between these seasons he was just a big jolly frank-faced man, 
not at all unlike Raj in face and in character, and not unlikely 
to be drawn from honest ways by a kind of perverted romance. 
For this giving to the poor was a thing to be praised, and Pon 
almost forgot the sin that was in it as he saw suffering people 
relieved from distress, and heard their acclamations of Raj. 

But one day when Raj called at Pon’s house he said to him, 
“Never think of it. We are destroyed, it is too late for us; 
but keep thou from our ways. They are wicked ways. Keep 
from them.’ And Pon, touched and enlightened, did keep 
from them. But he saw no harm in having Raj to a meal occa- 
sionally ; like scores of others he welcomed him whenever he 
had a chance, And the natural sequel followed. He spent his 
all and more, some three thousand rupees, in trying to clear his 
own good name from the false charges brought against him. 
And soon afterwards there fell upon Raj the first sharp smiting 
of the rain that was to cause the hidden seed of Seetha’s prayer 
to stir and move up towards the light. 

In the forest that Raj knew so well, in shady places after rain, 
the little fungus, dictyophora, lifts herself like a surprise from 
among the dead leaves that cover the ground. You see at first 
a small brownish-purple head, rising slowly yet perceptibly 
till it stands on a slender, pure white, half-transparent column. 
Round the neck, as it were, is the beginning of an orange-coloured 
frill, an immature turnover tucker. This grows as she rises, 
extends all round and opens into a net, through which you may 
see the fragile white column. Sometimes the net falls evenly, 
sometimes it is as if an elf of the woodland were gathering up 
her little skirts fora dance. But in a few hours she tires, and you 
look and cannot find her. The dead leaves cover her as if she 
had never been. 

If Seetha knew the little net-bearer—and as the people of the 
mountain-foot villages know their forests it is not unlikely that 
she did—she must have wondered at the quick uprising and still 
quicker perishing of this child of the woods.$ And yet had she 


54 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


known more she would have been sure that what she took for 
death was only life in another form. There is no such thing as 
a perishing anywhere. There is no such thing, she knows it now, 
as a perishing of prayer. 

And through the days that were to come, when hope sprang up 
only to fade and fall, and the men and women who prayed for 
Raj saw nothing but the grave of hope covered and overspread as 
by withering leaves of forest trees, it was good to remember the 
little net-bearer. Let the rain fall (and there are many kinds of 
rain in God’s world), and the life under the leaves will awaken. 


CHAPTER VII 
TRAPPED 


NEAR the mountains which skirt the southern plain is a country 
town, ancient and sacred. Kings have fought for that town, 
and legends of the deeds of gods and men hang about it like the 
breath of incense. The name by which it was formerly known 
was the Joyous City. 

Round about the Joyous City the mountains stand in a great 
half ring; in the rains a waterfall races down the rocks, and 
though in heat the river flowing to the Plains becomes a trickling 
stream, there is always water in the Joyous City, and its palms 
are always fruitful. Straying as it wills on the plain between the 
mountains and the wide and pleasant rice fields, the little old 
city lives as it has lived for ages, sufficient unto itself, a little city 
of pictures and memories. 

To it came Raj in the height of his fame, made over-confident 
by his many escapes, and careless of his safety. He stayed with 
a friend whom he believed to be true. But that friend wanted 
to keep to himself money which Raj had committed to his care, 
and he wanted the Government reward offered for the capture of 
Raj. So he promised to betray his friend, and thus hoped to 
secure both by a stroke. 

Raj, never thinking a doubtful thought of the man who had 
welcomed him so warmly, appears to have given little heed to 
any danger signals. He went out morning by morning in the most 
open way to a coffee shop in the town, where sitting calmly 
among any who chanced to come, he had coffee and rice-cakes. 
And evening by evening he went to the river and played a kind 
of hockey, and organised sports for the boys of the place, football, 
long jumps, and walking on stilts across the river, just then 


TRAPPED 55 


shallow ; and never, incredible as it sounds, concerned himself 
in the least about the intentions of the police officers in charge 
of that part of the country who were gathering up their forces 
from the towns round about till they had men enough to surround 
the house where Raj was staying, and by night, while he slept, 
fall upon him and carry him off. 

One night his friend made a feast, and after it was over, jovial 
and care-free, Raj turned into the side-room appointed, and 
slept in peace. How he could be so care free, no one can say ; 
but he had never betrayed another, and, though he had been 
betrayed once, he seemed as incapable of suspicion as of fear. 

That night the sign was given. The house was surrounded. 
The false friend opened the door. Raj was taken in his sleep. 
He was overpowered at once and bound and taken to a room 
thereafter odious to him and his. A table stood in that room. 
He was forced to stretch out his leg on the table ; then certain 
men were told to strike it with their staves. They stopped before 
the bone was broken, and flung him into a cell. 

The furious hours raced over him. They were fiercer now than 
even when for the first time he found himself behind bars with 
handcuffs on his wrists. That false friend, oh to have him for 
one red-hot minute in his hands! Somehow or other he must 
get at him; he should live to regret that he had dared to cheat 
the Red Tiger. Yes, he would get at him yet, and stamp on him 
as one stamps on a squirming centipede ; the ears of men would 
tingle as they heard of that revenge. And he traversed dark 
roads as he brooded over the form his vengeance would take. 
He would escape as he had before. He would go swiftly and lay 
offerings at the feet of his special demon, Life of Wild Places, 
and implore his help. 

That demon, Life of Wild Places—but had he been true to him, 
his votary ? The figure of that divinity stood by the roadside 
at the place where he turned off and crossed the plain to reach 
one of his nearer caves, and many a time he had stopped to lay 
a handful of flowers at the feet of the black image set on its 
pedestal. A lamp burned there at night. He had fed it with 
oil and worshipped times without number, groping towards one 
beyond, silent, unseen but regarding. Had anyone heard ? 
Had anyone regarded ?. Had he cried to a god who could not 
save? Was it alla vanity? All that his father and his mother 
had believed, was it vanity ? And then, as in that other cell 
where he had lain and writhed in the grip of his mental torture 
when he heard of Seetha’s death, visions of the past floated by 
and tormented him, bright visions of boyhood, of sports and 


56 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


exploits, of hisearly manhood, of the little red house, his wives, his 
children, those children more defenceless than ever now, little 
lambs among wolves. 

The punishment of thoughts can be severe, but back and back 
of all lay the old question, why ? Why such an enmity ? Why 
the Yellow Paper ? Why the himsa that killed Seetha ? Whom 
had he offended ? The hidden foe? Yes, but who stood behind 
that hidden foe ? Wasa devil on the throne ? Where was God ? 

He had one comfort. Chotu was free. The boy had been away 
from the band for some little time and Raj was thankful for that. 
His other men were not as Chotu to him. “ Are all men men 
indeed ? Are all stones rubies ? ’’ says the proverb. ‘‘ Though 
brass may shine as gold, does the nature of gold belong to brass ? ”’ 
Raj loved Chotu with the love of a strong man for a loyal lad; 
he knew the good that was in the boy, he knew the ill too, but 
for good or ill he was his faithful Chotu, and faithfulness covers 
many sins. So Raj was thankful he was not here in this hateful 
den, thankful he had not been in that room of hateful memory. 

Then he heard that a Native State Warrant had been served 
on Chotu. 


CHAPTER VIII 
A FOY RIDE 


IT was true, and Raj in his cell writhed with futile wretchedness 
as he thought of the boy in the toils of Native State Law. If 
only they could be together, stand their trial together, the gall 
of life would be sweetened for them both. 

There are wheels within wheels all over the world; but no- 
where do those inner wheels spin more smoothly and silently 
than in the underworld of India. Just a little while before Raj’s 
capture, he and Chotu had robbed a police station, carrying off 
a gun and a bundle of clothes. 

This robbery appeared as though it would quite beautifully 
turn the wheels for a very respectable gentleman of high standing, 
who was anxious to impress it upon a disagreeable neighbour 
that he, the Respectable, could not be crossed in love or war 
without uncomfortable consequences following. He happened 
to be one to whom Raj paid blackmail from his loot. He de- 
manded that gun and that bundle. Raj gave them up, and before 
long the disagreeable neighbour was charged with the crime of 
robbing a police station and carrying off a gun and some clothes. 

But the official who had to do with the charge-sheet had also 


A JOY RIDE 57 


wheels to turn. He wanted to have the kudos of catching Raj, 
or failing him, Chotu. He therefore summoned a lad whom he 
knew to be a friend of the accused: “‘ Get me either Raj or Chotu, 
and all will go well with that case,’”’ he said, and Dass, a young 
Hindu of character, considered the question. Just at that point 
Raj was caught. Chotu, he reflected, would certainly soon be 
caught. There would be himsa. What merit, what shining merit 
would accrue to him, Dass, if he could arrange for a capture with- 
out himsa. How the relations would thank him ; it is charming 
to be thanked. And he would save his friend who would praise 
him in the ears of all the town ; it is heaven to be praised. In- 
cidentally, into what intricate joys might not friendship with the 
Force invite him in the days to come ? So he bargained care- 
fully about the little matter of himsa, and received the solemn 
promise that there should be none. Thus fortified he agreed 
to do his best, and departed. 

Very gently and very wisely he felt his way. Chotu’s father had 
tasted of terrible himsa himself in an attempt to wrest from him 
information which he had not got, and dreading like woes for 
his boy he had connived at his eluding the Yellow Paper. But 
the old man was by nature law-abiding. His son’s defection had 
been shame and grief to him. As soon as he was sure that there 
would be fair play he eagerly and thankfully told Dass where 
the boy was hiding and he blessed Dass comprehensively as he 
sent him off. 

He need not have been so devout. Adventure of any kind 
was the salt of life to that cheerful youth, and this adventure 
promised plenty of salt. 

And gave it. Spinning along on the motor-bus, Dass evolved 
delightful plans, and full of the secret bliss of them arrived in the 
little ancient temple town from whose private recesses Chotu 
emerged when it was made known to him who was there and what 
was promised. Then the two set forth on a motor ride through 
the country searched by the police. It was a gay ride. Chotu 
in a coat and tie, with a pair of black spectacles and a turban 
carefully arranged not according to his caste, sat beside Dass, 
also very swagger indeed. And they called each other “ Sah,” 
which means “ Sir,” and alighted for refreshments in the three 
chief towns through which they passed. And policemen ex- 
changed friendly remarks with Dass who was an old friend of 
many of them. They enjoyed every minute of that ride. 

And the end of it was interesting. Dass glowing with virtue 
handed his charge over to Law who, however, refused to accept 
Chotu in that off-hand way. ‘ It must be in the records that we 


58 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF. 


have caught him,” said Law. So Dass took Chotu to the little 
temple among the mountains, the temple of the jovial memories 
of the mighty kick, and there Chotu stood and Law, avenged 
at last, “‘ caught’ him. He went quite cheerfully, trusting the 
promise given to Dass, and it is pleasant to record that the 
promise was kept. Chotu bathed in the river, he walked abroad. 
He played cards with the police whose himsa had been so happily 
negotiated. When the time came, he was handed over to the 
British authorities, and he and his captain were together again. 
That he had to be handed over, had not shadowed his days with 
his friends, the placated police. Perhaps he knew his captain 
well enough to know he would not be too long in bonds. And so 
all the wheels were happily turned, except those of the disap- 
pointed Respectable, who, however, set others spinning forthwith. 
The accused was acquitted of the daring attack on the police 
station. Dass wore his laurels for several satisfactory years, and 
Law got the coveted kudos. So all went well. 

Meanwhile the country lay quiet, as is her wont, saying little ~ 
that anyone heard. But there was a smile on her face ; for the 
land knew her Tiger. 


PART II 


“Ts it thus that virtue looks the moment after its death-struggle with evil ? 
No, I could have told Guido better than that, A full third of the Archangel’s 
feathers should have been torn from his wings ; the rest all ruffied ike Satan’s 
own. His sword should be streaming with blood, and perhaps broken half- 
way to the hilt ; his armour crushed, his robes rent, his breast gory ; a bleeding 
gash on his brow, cutting right across the stern scowl of battle. He should 
press his foot down hard upon the old serpent, as tf his very soul depended 
upon it, feeling him squirm mightily, and doubting whether the fight were half 
over yet and how the victory might turn. And with all this fierceness, this 
grimness, this unutterable horror, there should still be something high, tender 
and holy in Michael’s eyes and around his mouth. But the battle was never 
such child’s play as Guido’s dapper Archangel seems to have found it.” 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 


On Guido’s Picture of St. Michael and the Dragon. 


CHAPTER I 
COOLIE TALK 


T was early morning on the mountains. A hammock 
carried by four coolies was swinging down the narrow 
forest path, when the coolies began to talk to each other. 
Carunia, whom they were carrying, was reading; but the 
talk of men who are not talking for the benefit of white ears but 
only for brown, can be interesting, and presently emerging from 
her book, Carunia listened. 

Said one of the men, glancing round cautiously, to his fellow 
who carried the pole alongside : 

“He could stand like a sambhur within a foot of us without 
discovering himself to us, if so he desired. Oh, a wise man is he, 
and a wary, and a gallant, and a brave.” 

“Verily, and a good,” returned the other. “ Did he not give 
to the poor all he took from the rich ? Have not thousands shared 
his bounty ? Yes, he is good.” 

“Oh, be joyful, for a maker of great jokes is he. Did he not 
deal wisely with the folees, and take their guns from them, and 
unlock his two men’s handcuffs ?’’ And they talked of how the 
guard had been sent back and directed to return the handcuffs 
to the police station. ‘‘ For these I have no use,’ said he, the 


59 


60 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


merry joker. The four bearers chuckled, for this was of the 
very essence of a joke. 

‘Oh, a man of parts is he, and a kind anda mighty. And of 
all the vital spots in the human body he knows the touching 
places.” (For India holds that each sense has its vital spot ; 
touch it, and you kill that sense. The one which includes all, 
is set in the nape of the neck.) ‘‘ Many a man’s vital spot he 
might have touched, but he never did so. Yes, a merciful is he.” 
And they began to chant one of the Red Tiger ballads. 

Now Carunia had been for some time in. the Grey Forest, 
getting a house built for the children of the Garden Village. 
The work of the day had filled the day from early morning till 
dark. There was not time even for a glance at the newspapers 
that came up in a bundle twice a week. So she knew nothing 
of what filled the men’s minds till this conversation enlightened 
her. 

It was the morning after Raj had escaped ; for, as she presently 
knew, the famous brigand chief had been caught, ‘‘ but he and 
Chotu, and Vina, another of his men, escaped. And he may be 
here, watching us at this very moment,” and the coolies glanced. 
round, half hoping they would see him. ‘“ He used to guard the 
children’s rice carts on the roads in the time of the great drought.” 

““And once, when we were bringing food up to the forest 
house, he saw us, and Vina, the fierce Vina, called out, ‘ Stay, 
show us what is in the loads.’ But he came forward. ‘ Nay, it is 
for a work of love, touch it not. It is the children’s food, let it 
go.’ And they guarded us up the path.” 

“Oh, they guarded many a one,” sang out another coolie. 
“Who does not know of the Brahman lady who was going on 
pilgrimage to the temple in the forest ? ’’ and he pointed down to 
the gleaming white walls of that little Hindu shrine. “‘ It was one 
of his men who took her marriage token ; and he cried, ‘ Shame, 
shame on you for a craven! Take her superfluous jewels, but 
not her marriage token.’ And he caused it to be returned and 
also the jewels, as a punishment for the deed, and he saw her 
safely to the temple.” 

“ But how has he escaped ? ”’ asked Carunia. 

“How ? who knows? Only we know he walked across the 
plain, he and his two, each with a gun over his shoulder, and we 
know he said to his escort, ‘ Take the iron bangles back to the 
police station, for to that place do they belong.’’’ And they 
fell to talking of the robber captain, and of how one day after 
the drought he saw a great cartload of sacks of rice go by, and 
stopped the cart, saying to the driver who was poor, “ Give me 


COOLIE TALK 61 


so many sacks, and return this day week, and look among the 
roots of that tree yonder, and thou wilt find the money.” And 
the driver obeyed and trusted him, for he knew that Raj never 
lied ; and ina week he returned, as he had been told ; and there, 
in ; hollow among the roots of the tree, was the money tied in 
a cloth. 

“None of his riches did he keep for himself. A share went 
to each in his band, and the share that fell to him he gave to the 
poor ; thousands love him for his bounty in the time of high prices. 
He said, ‘ Are jewels needful in a time of high prices ?’ and he 
said, ‘ Let the rich feed the poor.’ Thus saying, he caused them 
so to do.” 

The underworld of India was not an unknown land to Carunia ; 
she had lived more years in the East than in the West, and had 
walked the ways of that underworld which is so seldom seen. 
The trap-door spider of India makes her silk-lined tunnel in the 
ground, and hangs a door across its mouth by a silken hinge, 
but the door is the colour of the ground. You walk across it, and 
do not see it. There, under your feet, is a whole little houseful 
of life ; but you are as blind to it as you are deaf to its minute 
voices, unless your eyes have been opened to see that frail dis- 
guising door that moves on such delicate hinges. And so it is 
with another door. 

But now here was this new underworld, a place apart from the 
one to which Duty had often beckoned. And it was near; its 
tunnel opened all but from the compound where the children 
played and did lessons, and so many things happened that the 
angels knew about and other less lovable people too. The Red 
Tiger’s roads skirted that compound ; vague echoes of his doings 
had floated across to the Garden House, and had hardly been 
heeded. They belonged to this very countryside. And now, as 
Carunia listened, and heard tale after tale that told of a nature, 
made to be happy and good and triumphant, being debased by 
deadly sin, struggling sometimes up from the slough only to 
be dragged back again, and yet through all preserving a tender- 
ness towards little children and weak and needy people, a strong 
desire filled her to take this brigand chief by the hand, and lead 
him to the Saviour of men. “ Could I see him ?”’ she asked the 
coolies. They thought it quite impossible. The mountains are 
vast. He might be near, but he might be miles away. No man 
knew where he was except his most trusted friends and they 
would never tell. No, it was impossible. 

But in God’s great dictionary that word does not occur. 


cen 


62 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER II 
A MAN WITHOUT A GOD 


“© Gop, if there be a God, what is this 2? ”’ 

It was Raj, alone in the forest, who cried the words aloud. 
He had escaped; thanks to some power above him, he had 
escaped from cell and chain, and he raised his hands instinctively 
in a gesture of recognition, but something gripped him still. 
Not steel, he could have dealt with that, but something he could 
not lay hands upon, something within him, about him, upon him, 
intangible as darkness. Utterly wretched, he went away alone, 
and wrestled with this new and horrible thing ; and a sense of 
being flung out like an atom into the void took possession of him. 
To whom could he look for succour now ? 

All his life he had worshipped Something, or Someone; that 
Something or Someone had failed him. He had turned from 
what he had trusted, for he had proved it nought. And there in 
the black night, in the black woods, a fear was upon him; he 
knew himself to be a man without a God. 

Then desperate thoughts sprang at him and bit into him like 
the red dogs of the forest that seize the sambhur by the throat 
and tear it to pieces with horrid violence. The man who had 
betrayed him—why should he live any longer? But no, to kill 
was a great sin. But there were some who killed and lived on 
and flourished like a mango tree. Was there a God who saw what 
was done on the earth? or was there not? He, Raj, had no 
God; nor demon, nor devil, nor godling, nor goddess had he 
to whom he could turn. 

And, to that man in his dark hour, the terror that shook him 
to the soul was that something within him affirmed, “‘ There ts 
a God, there 1s a God,” till he groaned and cried looking up through 
the leaves of the trees to the distant inaccessible stars, “‘ O God, 
if there be a God, what is this ? ”’ 

If there be a God? As a young child he had gone with his 
mother to worship the oldest and the simplest of all religious 
symbols that stood under a tree near his home. He had watched 
her as she hung a wreath of oleander flowers upon it, and pleased 
and eager he had scattered a handful of the same sweet blossoms 
by it, and bowed his head as she bowed hers and put his hands 
together as she put hers, and given them a little shake as she 
shook hers, and then he had trotted back home by her side 
content, for all was well with his world, and had he not wor- 
shipped, albeit the Unknown ? 


BY THE LOTUS WATER 63 


When he grew older, his father had initiated him into certain 
secrets, and he had sought the afflatus and received it ; but often 
he would come alone and stand under the tree and feel the play 
of the wind among the leaves, and the flicker of the sunshine 
through the shade, and he would bow to the little still white thing 
set there in the green shadow, and look up to the wide blue sky 
above him and the mountains beyond the strip of bright water, 
and feel something he could not have expressed in words about 
the mystery of things, and yet—how good it was to be alive ! 

And again as he grew in years, he had thought more and more 
of that which he felt must move somewhere behind this outward 
show. He had never questioned the reality and the might of the 
invisible forces of the air and the great deeps. Beyond them, 
out of reach of such as he, he had come to think of a Being, God, 
the Unknown, the impersonal, but existing, and pervading vast 
space. In some vague way he had recognised that he belonged 
\ to Him; not nearly and consciously, but as a grain of sand on 
| the plain belongs to the Creator of the world ; and often he would 
raise his hands and look up into the air above him and make the 
_ Hindu gesture of committal that he had learned from his mother 
_ long ago, hoping at least that the Presence beyond took some 
note of it. But this faith had fallen from him now, been torn 
_ from him rather, as a garment is torn by a rough hand. At the 
_ hour of his betrayal it had fallen in rags at his feet. And his soul, 
set naked in the teeth of the winds of the world, shivered. He 
was a man without a God. 


CHAPTER III 
BY THE LOTUS WATER 


“Loox! It is one of the folees.” 

“ Be ready !” 

And the three men behind the rocks covered a young man 
in khaki shirt and shorts who was walking across the grass near 
the Lotus Water. 

A minute’s tension, then the leader of the three whispered, 
“ He has no gun,” and instantly they all lowered their guns and 
waited, warily enough, but with no thought of shooting. Then 
two white women, hidden till now by a cactus hedge, followed 
the young man at some little distance, and with a great sigh of 
relief, as he told afterwards, Raj stepped out, and with his two 
followers climbed down the rocks and, walking to the women, 
stopped and salaamed. 

“Who art thou ?”’ the older one asked. And he said with a 


64 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


kind of pride, “‘ I am the Red Tiger,” and told of the watch over 
the man in khaki and of the relief when they found that he was 
not a policeman. 

“ For eight evenings we have watched, hearing you were up 
in the Grey Forest, hoping you would come down,” and he told 
of how he had almost given up hope of seeing her. 

“But what can I do for thee ?”’ asked Carunia astonished. 
She had come to see some fields beyond the Lotus Water, and 
could hardly believe that this was the brigand chief. 

She saw a clear-skinned man of medium height, stockily built, 
immensely strong apparently, and every inch an athlete. The 
great flashing eyes glowed like black fires under the bushy black 
eyebrows ; but as the talk turned from point to point they lost 
their smouldering fires, and softened, or filled with humour. 
He shouted once in a big unafraid voice, and when his companions 
glanced round rather warningly, he laughed a jolly rollicking 
laugh, and waved his arm comprehensively round the horizon, 
“No fear here ; we couldsee them halfa mile away !’’ There was 
nothing of the criminal about him, he suggested the mountains 
and forests and fields. But there were hard lines drawn round the 
mouth that did not seem to belong to it: they seemed an after- 
thought ; and his eyes hardened sometimes and grew fierce and 
bitter. When he spoke of certain kinds of himsa he fingered his 
gun in a deadly way. ‘ They shall not take us alive,”’ he said. 

The boy by his side looked about nineteen, his oval brown 
face had set in hardness, but he had straightforward keen 
young eyes. The oldest man looked much the worst of the three. 
There was something relentless and cold and scheming in that 
face. A ruffian look, unacquired by the other two, dominated 
his whole expression. 

To Carunia who waited for his answer, Raj said tersely, ‘‘ For 
me nothing can be done, but for my little children much, they 
are defenceless. Their mother is dead.’’ And he stopped, and 
looked at her with a look which said, “‘ How much may I say ? 
How much does she know ?’”’ And he would say nothing more 
just then but drifted back into the impenetrable reserve of his race. 

“See, we have tea here, and bread, let us have tea together.” 

The three men sat down on the grass with their new friends, 
their eyes following with interest the unpacking of a tea-basket. 
The thermos charmed Raj. “Ah,” he said appreciatively as 
the hot tea was poured out, “it smokes !”’ 

But still there was that reserve, till the other white woman and 
the young Indian proposed going on to look at the further fields, 
when, left alone with the one whom apparently he had determined 





TO THE UNKNOWN GOD 


As a young child Raj had gone with his mother to worship the oldest and 
simplest of allreligious symbols that stood undera tree near his home. 





BY THE LOTUS WATER 65 


to trust, he opened his thoughts to her. The other two said 
little: the boy merely nodded assent, or sighed long heaving 
sighs ; the man stared across the plain, watching perhaps for 
a foe, while Raj in queer broken sentences, unadorned as his sin, 
told their story. 

It was pitiful enough, and verified and amplified in every 
detail later on, it only grew more pitiful, and they sat long 
together on the rough short grass, he talking, she listening ; 
and the sky grew rosy with sunset ; and the mountains bathed in 
that light that is neither rose nor gold, but dreams of them both ; 
and the little Lotus Water, silver all day long, answered to the 
deepening flush, kindling and colouring, unearthly in her loveliness. 

Through this softness of beauty the words of that hard story 
fell like bullets on the petals of flowers. As Raj told in crude 
language his reasons for preferring death to surrender, the glory 
of the colours jarred. How could the sky summon her banner- 
bearers as if all were well? The golden glory mocked the cruel 
ways of men. The beauty of the world was an offence. But, no: 
believe that, and die outright. The clean glory of the world, 
as God made it, is no offence. It is a pledge, a promise. It 
promises that which yet shall be. 

She was thinking these thoughts when a chuckle recalled her. 
The men were fingering their guns. ‘“‘ The joke of it! the joke 
of it,’ Raj was saying, “‘ never was there a richer joke !”’ 

“ Those guns will be a snare to you all,’ said Carunia. ‘‘ What 
good can stolen guns do you?’”’ And she besought them to give 
them up. 

“Stolen! but they were not stolen,” said Raj quickly, and 
a trifle indignantly, “‘ they were honestly bought.” And his 
comrades nodded vehement agreement. ‘‘ They were not stolen, 
not they; they were honestly bought. We paid a thousand 
rupees for them and for the story our escort promised to tell. 
Ay, and they kept their promise,’’ he added smiling broadly. 
“Ts that not the tale in the newspapers ?’’ And the three men 
looked at one another and laughed. 

Now all South India had read that Raj had persuaded his 
guard to take off his handcuffs (another newspaper declared he 
had smashed them against a rock), that he had set his companions 
free, and had fallen on the guards and dealt them stunning blows. 
After which act of mercy he had handed them the handcuffs 
with directions to take them to the police station to which they 
belonged. Then he and his men had stalked off to the hills, to 
the astonishment of the police and of motor-bus drivers passing 
that way. 


EB 


> 


66 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


It was a cheery tale, and that it did not hang together very 
well had struck nobody. The mensmacked their lips with a wicked 
satisfaction, and chuckled at the remembrance of that present 
of three pairs of handcuffs to their guards. 

“Tt was true we gave the bangles back. We had no use for 
them. And it is true that we took that which we required, even 
their guns and their ammunition, and it is true our guards were 
battered. But for all that we paid honestly a thousand rupees, 
and it was part of the bargain that they should knock themselves 
about enough to account for their loss of us and the guns. And 
this they faithfully did.” 

Then Raj’s face darkened, and he frowned, and muttered 
things under his breath. He was thinking of the one who had 
betrayed him. ‘‘ In a week, look, and he will not be found,” he 
had said to his friend Marut, the herb doctor, about that traitor 
only the evening before. His heart was hot with thoughts of 
revenge. 

“That gun will be thy temptation,” said Carunia again. 

“It is my life,” he answered simply, his face clearing a little ; 
and he patted his gun as a man does his dog. 

“ Promise me thou wilt not use it except in defence of thy life 
—it would have been useless to press for more than that. Even 
to ask that, meant more than Raj was prepared to grant. He 
drew a deep breath, and for a minute spoke not a single word. 

Then “J promise,” he said gruffly, but with a straight look 
into her eyes. And that promise kept, under God only knows 
what stress of temptation to break it, saved many a life in the 
difficult days to come. 

But the first thing, the only thing that could be urged with 
any certain hope of happiness in the end, was surrender, and this 
question was discussed up and down. 

“We could never get near anyone to do it. They have leave 
to shoot at sight. They would not shoot to kill outright. We 
should fall alive into their hands, there would be himsa; ten 
thousand times rather than that we choose death.” 

“Let me take thee to the Superintendent of Police. Then all 
will be well. No himsa can be.’’ Carunia said it more to Raj 
than to the others, for he seemed nearer willingness. He hesitated 
for a moment. ‘“‘I should like to go to him,” he said; “he 
spoke kindly to me after I was trapped. I began to tell him what 
had been done; but I could not tell him much for I was still in 
the hands of his men, and he took it that it was only a matter.of 
a few rough knocks in a scuffle.’””. Then, with a vehement gesture, 
“ But no; we should be torn out of the cart at the toll-gate, 


”) 


OVER THE FIVE DHIMONS 67 


or before we reached it. Many are watching. The roads are all 
watched.”’ And he said that not even with an Englishwoman 
would they be safe ; the reward was large; there would be trouble, 
and he could not have her in it. 

“We go nowhere without our guns,” he concluded significantly. 
“We will endure no more himsa. It is himsa that keeps us with 
guns in our hands. Nor can it be said that there would be none, 
even if we gave ourselves up. There are things done, of which 
the white man knows nothing—things that leave no mark on the 
flesh.”” And he turned from the thought. 

That was a bitter hour. To leave them to the fate that must 
come upon them if they would not surrender, seemed impossible ; 
and yet how do otherwise? ‘If only we could serve you, if 
we could guard your forest house, we would be faithful. Indeed 
we would be faithful,’ Raj had said, ‘“‘ and never a twig of the 
Sirkar trees would be touched by thievish men of the Plains 
if they knew that we were there!’’ And something about the 
man bore witness that he spoke the truth. But India no longer 
makes brigand chieftains into warders for her frontiers. No way 
opened for Raj, except the way of the Law, and well for him if 
Law were all he had to fear. 

Only the Saviour of sinners, the Friend of sinners, can face, 
undismayed, tragedy like this. To Him then, of whom she told 
them all they could wait to hear, Carunia committed those three 
distracted men. Kneeling on the grass by the waterside she 
prayed for them; and Raj knelt, with his face in his hands, for 
a long time in a silence that might be felt. 

And then the sun went down over the tops of the mountains. 
But in a little while the stars came out. 


CHAPTER IV 


OVER THE FIVE DA4:MONS 
“It may be done.”’ 
‘“ Swear on the five demons and he will believe thee.”’ 
“ Yea, he will never doubt that oath.”’ 
“Never: did he ever break his own ?”’ 
mere It then y: 
“Ay, sure is that oath: he will never question it.” 
“Swear on thy son also ; that oath is sure,” 
“ T will swear also on my eldest son.” 
“ And I on the five deemons.”’ 
“We can buy the demons’ pardon with part of the reward.” 


68 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


“So be it then.” 

They were two brothers, belonging to one of the criminal 
tribes of India, and they were talking in low whispers with some 
deputed to arrange this matter. The small whitewashed house 
where they talked stands at the end of the Village of the Herons. 
People point to it now as they pass : “‘the house of the betrayers.”’ 
Round about are many palms, and at sunset the air fills with the 
sound of wings and with the mingled cries of the little snow-white 
herons of the rice fields that roost in thousands in those palms. 
Palms and birds—how innocent it all appears! But the people 
shudder as they look; for that house is the way to hell, going 
down to the chambers of death. 

And that night, while the crafty low talk proceeded, away in 
the forest the three men in their trouble were turning towards 
right, and planning to comein. For, as they pondered over what 
had been said by the Lotus Water, they felt it was the only way. 
““ Let us rise and do it,”’ said Raj; and he sent the message to 
a well-known Christian man who knew Carunia, asking him to 
inform her of this. But India, her better part at least, rarely 
hurries. While the good man, startled by the appeal to help, 
was considering the matter, those appointed to entangle the men 
left the house among the palms and, crossing the plain, reached 
the mountains and found them in one of the familiar caves. 
Then cautiously the brothers proposed a dacoity in a village 
by the sea. 

Raj had listened to the word of peace and of salvation by the 
Lotus Water. But he had not touched the Lord Jesus Christ, 
or felt His touch on him ; he did not know Him yet in any vital 
sense. Loot meant freedom, for there were ways by which to 
purchase relief from pursuit. Freedom was everything to this 
man of the mountains. Afterwards he told how when he was shut 
up in the jail the thought of running waters worked like madness 
in him. Everything pulled him the wrong way ; there was noth- 
ing strong enough to hold him back. 

But Vina, the oldest man of the three, and famed for sagacity 
as much as for ferocity, objected. 

“ They may be spies.” 

“Talk sense,’ said Raj impatiently. ‘“‘ Dost thou not know 
that they have sworn on the five demons in five shrines ? 
And the elder brother,’ he added significantly, ‘‘ has sworn on 
his eldest son. That oath holds when all others break.” 

“Has that oath never been broken ?”’ sneered Vina, recalling 
re 2 derisive gesture the oath of the Lamp, the Book, and the 

hild. 


HIMSA 69 


Raj turned on him sharply. “It cannot be deception,’ he 
said. ‘‘ Would two men break that sacred oath ? ” 

“Ay, or twenty,” said Vina, “I do not trust the brothers” ; 
and he argued and insisted till Raj exclaimed angrily, “ I stamp 
on thy suspicions! I helped those brothers in their trouble ; 
would they betray me? Would he whom I count as a brother 
betray me?’’ And Vina, worsted, sulked, but had to yield. 
Nothing would persuade Raj that falsehood like this could be. 


CHAPTER V 
HIMSA 


THEY were taken unawares. “ There was a feast for Raj. As 
the food was in his hand, just as he was raising his hand to his 
mouth, one of the brothers from behind struck him down and 
another seized his gun.” This was the word that flew as by wire- 
less, till every village for miles around and all the towns and 
every house apart thrilled with the news; for to break the code 
of hospitality is never a light thing in the East. And the word 
that went with it burned like fire. 

“‘ There was himsa.”’ 

Swift upon it came the tale, told by old and young and high 
and low; nocaste but toldit. For once, the upright of all castes 
were united in indignation. 

Here it is, as told by a man who saw it: “ After the men had 
been bound with their hands behind their backs and their feet 
fast, and while all whom the brothers had brought to help stood 
round about them, one whose commands those brothers obeyed 
came in and looked at the prisoners, and said, pointing to Raj, 
‘Without shedding of blood you must break his leg. After you 
have broken it, call me, and I will come and see.’ Saying this, 
he went. And it was done. A stone was brought; and, lest 
the skin should be broken and blood spilt, they wrapped Raj’s leg 
in a sack rolled four times round it, and stretched it out on the 
stone. And one of the two brothers broke the shin bone by blows 
from a rice-beater’”’ (a teak staff bound with iron). ‘‘ And the 
other twisted the leg by the foot till the sinews gave, and Raj 
cried to them, ‘ Oh, shoot me dead !’ 

“ Then they unrolled the sack, and called him who had com- 
manded and he came and looked and said, ‘ This is right.’ And 
then they pulled the leg backwards, and bent the knee, and tied 
the ankle to a rope that they had fastened round his shoulders, 
and carried Raj so, and flung him into a cart with the other two, 


70 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And the cart jolted greatly, for the way was rough for miles, And 
at last, when they came to the police station, they tilted the cart, 
and Raj and Chotu and Vina fell out on the ground.” 

‘ Ave there demons among men, clothed with humanity ?”’ 

Within an hour of hearing it, Carunia, taken by a friend, a 
doctor who was spending the day at the house and had a Ford 
car, was on her way to the hospital, six miles from the house. 
And waiting outside the gate, while the crowd of shocked, awed, 
angry men round muttered about Sirkar and himsa, she, unable 
to bear in silence the stringing of those two words together, 
besought them to believe this was not the work of the Sirkar. 
The Great, the Greatest of all would abominate it, she said. 
And, seeing how it scorched her who spoke, they believed and 
were quiet. 

After some waiting while, over the low wall of the hospital, 
men jumped in dozens—for half the town was either in or round 
about the ward where Raj lay—the officer in charge opened the 
gate, and the doctor and Carunia went in. 

The ward had filled again; for the message had soon run 
through the crowd that those who had come were friends, not 
officials ; and all who could had slipped over the wall and back 
to the ward. Ina corner of the ward lay Vina, who had loyally 
followed Raj when he refused his warning. He was asleep. In 
a bed near by lay Chotu, half stupefied, with his head wrapped in 
bandages. And in the midst of that silent gazing crowd, for no 
man dare speak, lay Raj, like a trapped animal. 

His face was grey and drawn; but his eyes were woefully 
alive. His leg, too swollen for splints, lay in a loose wrapping. 
He spoke no word of the horror of his night. “‘ Are my little 
children safe ?’’ was his only question. His eyes had cried that 
question, before his lips could frame it. 

At such a moment what can comfort aman? What put heart 
into him? What restore him, give him courage to recover and 
win through? There is only one consolation, one incentive 
strong enough for such an hour as this. 

There is no way to tell of how that broken man listened, unless 
one can tell of how the parched drink, when at last they find 
a spring, or how the weary rest, when they find shade after long 
toil through the scorching desert. In heats of despair and agony 
of the flesh, he drank of cool waters. He was no more a man 
without a God. 


MEANT UNTO GOOD 71 


CHAPTER VI 
MEANT UNTO GOOD 


“ Day and night his books are with him,” said the medical officer, 
an affable little gentleman, with large spectacles, hovering 
fingers, and a tolerant smile. ‘‘ By day he reads them to while 
away the time, by night he keeps them under his pillow. There 
is nought of the Red Tiger about him. Never had I a quieter 
patient.”’ 

“Is he so patient then ?’’ Carunia asked, and the assistant- 
surgeon discoursed in learned terms upon the nature of the 
injuries, and said that never in his experience had he seen any- 
thing quite of that sort, nor had to do with so patient a man. 
““ Never even a groan.’’ Toa question about the suffering, had it 
been severe ? he answered with a favourite formula, “‘ By all 
means. Suffering of such a nature is not a slight matter.” Andhe 
praised Raj’s splendid constitution. ‘‘ He is one whose healing 
would be always, as we say, by first intention,’’ and commented 
on his athletic qualities, and general manliness. ‘‘ But now,” he 
added with regret, “‘ no visits are to be permittedtohim. Itisan 
order.’ 

This was disappointing. For the last few weeks it had been 
possible to go from time to time and teach Raj, and he had been 
keen to hear and quick to apprehend. Once another from the 
Garden House had taken his children to see him. ‘‘ How he 
loved those children,” said the nurse, in speaking of this visit, 
“there were tears in his eyes when he looked at them as they 
stood by his bed.”’ These opportunites to teach him had been 
greatly valued, for to such a man jail would be a fierce discipline, 
and if only he could be prepared in spirit for it, what a difference 
it would make to his future, how differently he would regard 
those set over him. Each such interview had been short; it 
was shadowed by the necessary presence of the police guard, 
sometimes sympathetic, sometimes disagreeable, and the physical 
pain Raj was suffering could never be forgotten ; he could not 
have borne much teaching. And yet those short half-hours 
were helping him to win through. And now they must be stopped. 

Carunia said nothing. She was trying to recall exactly what 
Raj had learned. She could not be sure that he had passed from 
death unto life. She had begun at the place where he was, and | 
taught him our Lord’s words, so tender yet so stern, ‘‘ When ye | 
stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught against any: that your 
Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses, 


72 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in 
heaven forgive your trespasses.”’ For, while there was bitterness 
in his heart towards any, how could Raj find peace? He was 
man enough to accept what was just in his punishment as right 
and fair; it was what was unjust, the betrayal, and the himsa, 
that would rankle like a poisoned thorn. Carunia could not be 
sure that he had forgiven. 

“‘T will, however, send urgently to the Magistrate,’”’ said the 
surgeon, breaking in upon her thoughts. “‘ It may be he has 
authority to allow for suitable visits.”” And Carunia waited. 

The ward where Raj was kept opened opposite the consulting- 
room where she was waiting ; and from its verandah she could 
see the policeman in charge, and Raj propped up in bed being 
shaved. 

“T had great difficulty to get a barber of suitable caste,” 
continued the friendly medical, ‘‘ but, having at last succeeded, 
he was greatly obliged to me. He is a man whose custom is to 
be particular about himself. Oh, a very clean man is the Red 
Tiger, as they call him, a very clean man’’; and at this point 
Raj, hearing himself named, turned, and looked across to the 
consulting-room, and a smile beamed all over his half-shaven 
face, and up went his two hands in greeting. But the guard did 
not happen to be nice that day, and he caught the smile and dis- 
approved. There was a difference of opinion then, Medicine 
holding that Raj was his patient, and should be allowed to smile 
if he chose, Law holding that he was his prisoner and must not. 
The discussion was vociferous on both sides, but the Magistrate’s 
polite regrets that he had not authority to allow the visit, came 
just then, so Carunia departed sadly enough. Poor Raj, what 
a cheerless waste life must have looked that day, and yet the 
gallant heart in him was ready to make the best of it. Smile 
he would, and smile he did; hazarding a backward glance, 
Carunia saw him turn a broad and conciliatory grin on his guard. 

To the district jail they took him in due course, and there 
the rules allowed of occasional visits, notice having been pre- 
viously given and leave obtained. On a happy evening Carunia 
took his little daughter, Delight, to see him. The child had 
thought of nothing for days but this half-hour with her father, 
but when she saw the sentry at the gate, “ He is a polees,” she 
whispered, alarmed, drawing back, and all but refusing to go on. 

“He will not harm thee. If anyone harmed thee, he would 
protect thee,” said Carunia, who wanted to get the right idea 
into her mind once and for all. ‘‘ For no other purpose does 
the Sirkar appoint such.”’ But Delight shook her head, and only 


MEANT UNTO GOOD 73 


the strong pull of the love she bore her father could get her 
through the gate. 

Once within the wide open space where nothing dreadful 
was happening, she gained courage a little, and by the time the 
ward where her father lay was reached, she was almost at her 
ease. But it was a sober little face that nestled close to his 
shoulder ; and not till he began to speak and tell her that no one 
would hurt her would she creep out of her little shell of shy and 
silent fear, Then they talked together, she telling of her lessons 
and the brothers’ lessons and play. And the hunger in the father’s 
face, as he heard of them, was a sorrowful thing to see. 

Presently Carunia asked him what he had been reading when 
they came into the ward. 

“TI was reading in the Psalms,” he said, and showed her the 
verse, ‘‘ ‘I have gone astray like a sheep that islost. O seek Thy 
servant.’ ” 

“Has He sought thee, Raj? ”’ 

“Yea, verily He sought me,” said Raj. ‘‘ He sought me in 
the evening by the Lotus Water.” 

When Raj had finished his story on earth, his Bible was re- 
turned to the Garden House. Among the references found at 
the end of the book under his name and in his writing was this : 
Deut. 32, 10. He found him in a desert land. 

““ Has He found thee, Raj?” 

Raj did not answer in words, but he looked up with a smile 
that answered for him, and pointing to another verse he read it 
aloud, “‘ Before I was afflicted I went astray.’ And that too 
is true, And all that has befallen me is just.” 

Then he pulled a book from under his pilow. It was the 
Pilgrim’s Progress. He opened it at a picture of Christian at 
the place somewhat ascending where stood a Cross. And the 
burden was shown loosed from off his shoulders and beginning 
totumble. Raj pointed toit. ‘ Itis like that with me,” he said. 
“My burden has been loosed, it has fallen from me.” 

Before Raj was taken to the district jail Carunia had asked 
that, even though she might not teach him, he might have his 
books. The reply had been that he was “too dangerous a 
criminal and his offences too numerous to allow of any hope of 
his escaping the full rigour of the Law, and his time of relaxation 
(for reading, it was implied) would be smail.”’ 

But the books had been allowed, and as still, four months 
after that night of himsa, he was not able even to stand, much 
less work without relaxation, this great mercy of time to read 
was granted. It was then that those upon whose hearts he had 


74 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


been laid, marvelled at the ways of their Father. But for the 
himsa which had seemed to them only black abomination, would 
this golden boon have been? ‘“ Ye thought evil against me; 
but God meant it unto good.” 

Thus was the up-springing of the transient child of the forest 
with an almost magic speed, after a night of rain. Thus was 
the answer to a prayer that had seemed forgotten. “‘ All the 
bright lights of heaven will I make dark unto thee ’’—was that 
the answer that came to the young wife’s cry ? She died without 
seeing her stars. From the land on the other side of those covered 
lights, she speaks courage to our hearts. 


CHAPTER VII 
THINGS THAT CAME TO PASS 


SHORTLY after this, work called Carunia to the Grey Forest, 
and something happened there which would be hidden away from 
the eyes of all if it were not that it so belongs to this tale, with its 
continual intermingling of the forces of two worlds, that to leave 
it out would be to defraud the story of a part of its soul. 

The Forest House is built on a shelf on the mountain-side. It 
is surrounded by a forest which opens where the ravine runs 
down to the Plains. One can see the lights of a temple twinkle 
three thousand feet below, one can hear the beating of drums 
when a festival is going on. But that night all was quiet, only 
the wind very gently moved the branches of the trees. And the 
leaves looked black against a moonless sky. There was no sound 
at all but the myriad insect tinkles that are like fairy bells 
ringing for some midnight fairy feast, or the call of a bird some- 
times, or the bark of a deer. Save for these innocent noises, the 
forest was still; the noise of thoughts held the field. 

They all concerned Raj. 

Already it had become clear that in neither Order, visible or 
invisible, was this man’s change of heart to pass unchallenged. 
How would his story end? O God, O Father, help him, carry 
him through. 

At last, between night and morning, Carunia fell asleep and 
in a dream stood outside the gate of the district jail. She had 
stood there before, and waited while the guard at the gate heard 
her business and went up to the Superintendent’s room to ask 
leave for her to come. Then she had been taken to his office, 
and only after some little delay had been given the required 
permission to go to Raj. She had then returned to the space 





Photos by F. z. Beath 
“ARE MY LITTLE CHILDREN SAFE”’ 


Afterhis capture and torture this was Raj’sfirst question. His two small boysareas 
fond of climbing as he was. They are shown here, swinging on the bough of a banyan 
tree by the Split Rock where he kept his loot. Delight, their sister, is with them. 

(Page 70.) 


THE MOTHERS’ SHRINE 


The babies’ cradles are hung from the bough, and piled on the rock, in mute appeal 
to the goddess of the shrine to give children to childless wives. The old priestess was 
one of Raj’s many friends, and sheis asking Delight, hislittle daughter, to tell her why 
he gave up robbing, and how it was he could hold out when the world said he robbed. 

(Page 142.) 


THINGS THAT CAME TO PASS 75 


between the outer and the inner gates, and the inner gate had 
been unlocked, and she had been taken to the jail hospital. 
But in her dream there was no such delay. The outer gate 
opened of its own accord. The inner gate opened in the same 
peaceful way. She went into the jail compound, walked straight 
to the hospital ward, and saw Raj. With hardly a greeting, she 
asked this question : 

“ Dost thou wish to be baptized ?”’ 

And she heard him answer, “ Yes.” 

Then she asked, ‘‘ When ?”’ 

And he said, ‘* Now.’’ 

Then there was a sense of someone passing; he was a friend 
with whom she had never associated this brigand chief. She 
followed him, and asked him to baptize Raj, and he did so. 
Carunia heard the new name. And she began to waken with 
the sound of the name. 

But not at first did she return to the room in the forest house. 
It seemed as though what had been seen were something finished, 
and she rose and knelt and rejoiced and worshipped till, inad- 
vertently touching a little table near by, she came back to the 
house in the forest and knew that it was a dream. 

But the effect of that dream did not pass. The burden, so 
intolerable before, did not come again. And, though Carunia 
feared to be led away by anything untrue, before the evening of 
that day it was borne in upon her that this was no mere dream. 
Something had been shown to her. So she wrote down this that 
had been shown, and waited in peace for its accomplishment. 

A few days later the first movement, as it were, of the Unseen 
became evident when one, who was interested in Raj but 
unaware of this that was filling her heart, wrote to Carunia offer- 
ing to take her to the jail in her car. 

That journey by car should have taken an hour and a half. 
It took seven hours. Late in the afternoon the poor car limped 
like a lame bird past the high walls of the jail. 

It had been a tiring journey. The beating back of the invisible 
forces had been more exhausting to press through than storms 
of wind and rain would have been, or even the blazing sun of that 
long noonday drive. A short rest was possible ; and then Carunia 
took a friend with her and went to the jail. 

As they approached the gate, the Superintendent of the jail 
at that same moment advanced towards it. He had been out in 
the grounds. Together they walked in; the two gates, the outer 
and the inner, were opened, of course, as he approached. With- 
out the usual formality, permission to see the prisoner was given. 


76 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Carunia went to the ward, walking as though back in her dream, 
and, hardly waiting for greetings, she asked Raj the question : 

“ Dost thou wish to be baptized ?”’ 

And heard him answer, “ Yes.”’ 

And asked him, “‘ When ?”’ 

And heard him say, ‘‘ Now.” 

Then she gave him the paper and pencil she had brought in 
readiness for this moment. ‘‘ Write thy desire on it,’”’ she said to 
Raj, after leave had been given for him to do so, and she went 
out to the verandah lest her presence should influence him, and 
while she was there she told several of the Indian officials who 
stood in the verandah that which had been shown to her and 
what had happened now (for India does not question these 
strange facts of the spirit, and she hoped to interest the men in 
Raj, and so win more help for him). They listened gravely. 
““ Never have we heard or seen anything like this,’’ said one, “‘ he 
was a mighty robber.’ Then they all went into the ward where 
Raj had written what was in his heart, and the Superintendent 
of the jail, who had by this time arrived, was listening while one 
read the words aloud. 

“T am very anxious to be baptized. I believe in the Lord, the 
Doer. Never will I forget Him. Day and neght I think of Him. 
I have forsaken the way in which I was. The devil, Satan, destroyed 
me. I trust the Lord Jesus Christ. I beseech that I may be given 
baptism.” 

He need only have written, “‘ I wish to be baptized,” and this 
full clear writing was a surprise. But those who had to do with 
him, the jailers who guarded him, the pastor who from time to 
time had visited him, declared that he bore the marks of a truly 
changed man. No one felt it possible to refuse his desire. So 
there was no more to be said, except to settle the time ; half-past 
eight next morning was the hour appointed. 

Then Carunia remembered the one who had been seen passing. 
Had he passed at that moment it would have been most natural ; 
but, “‘ He is in Calcutta,” said the friend who had come with her. 
Where she stood that day, more elsewhere than here, the flesh 
seemed of no account. She could telegraph. It was possible for 
that friend to be spiritually present. And yet she was per- 
plexed. No angel, only a Government official in khaki uniform, 
had appeared as she approached the jail; but the gates had 
opened as instantly as if an angel’s hand had touched their pad- 
locks and strong iron bars. To the questions asked, the answers 
had come like echoes from another world. If so much, why not 
more? Whynotall? ... Lord Jesus, ifit be Thou, bid him come. 


rot 


I HAVE LEFT THE WRETCHED WAYS it, 


But the friend who had been seen passing was more than a 
thousand miles away ; so Carunia went to a neighbouring mission 
house to get his address in Calcutta. ‘‘ There is no need to 
telegraph,’ was the answer to her inquiry. ‘“‘ He is returning 
this evening. The train is in. He must be just about passing 
the gate.” 

“Passing,” it was the very word, and she who used it had 
heard nothing of the matter. Then, indeed, it was evident that 
the first round of this game was played to a finish. “‘ There were 
witnesses, cohorts about me, to left and to right, angels, powers, 
the unuttered, unseen, the alive, the aware.’ And this tells all 
that words can tell about that hour. 

Next morning the car, repaired, but still apparently reluctant, 
started for the jail. A moment later there was the now too 
familiar halt. ‘‘ That’s that,’ said its owner. There were some 
tense minutes. O come, kind angels, and push behind! Perhaps 
they did, for the car was at the jail at the time appointed. And 
all was done as had been shown. Raj was baptized by the one 
who had been seen passing, by the name that had been spoken 
between the night and morning in the forest. 

Before dawn on that baptism day, Carunia, awakened by a 
sense of oppression and fear which at times overrode the deep 
joy that was in her, saw, framed in an arch, the Southern Cross, 
upright and all but alone in that enclosed space. Seen thus, and 
seen from out of such spiritual stress, it was a sign that could not 
be spoken against. What if defeat and derision lay in the clouded 
future ? The Cross leads on through defeat and derision to 
victory eternal. It is the Spiritual that 1s strong. 


CHAPTER VIII 


I HAVE LEFT THE WRETCHED WAYS OF THE 
ABOMINABLE DEVIL 


IF we could see through the closely enveloping visible to the far 
more close enveloping invisible, what would be opened to us ? 

Rulers of the darkness ? Verily, but not these only; horses 
and chariots of fire, and their mighty riders, spirits sent to 
minister to even the least of the heirs of salvation. We should 
see these too, as one day we shall, when the dust of earth is 
~ blown from our eyes. 

Surely on that Baptism day there was a stir through those 
two hosts. There was a stir even in the village of the palms and 
the birds, and it reached to the shrines of the five demons on 


78 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


whom the brothers had sworn for the sake of Government 
silver. 

They got that silver told out in good rupees, and they hastened 
to the shrines to appease the offended deities. Four allowed 
themselves to be conciliated, but the priest of the fifth would 
have nothing to say to them: ‘‘ My demon is not that kind of 
demon,” he said, looking at the betrayers with disgust in every 
wrinkle of his face. ‘‘ Other demons may do as they please. 
Mine will never forgive you. Take your dirty rupees else- 
where.” 

And among the people on the side of the hosts angelical there 
was joy through the days,.and they lived on the letters received 
from those who were allowed to teach in the jail. There was 
once a note from the friend who had baptized Raj. He told of 
Raj and Chotu “looking over the same book and helping one 
another to find the references. Both were in chains.” 

Others wrote of the evident change. Raj was still, some five 
months after he had received his injury, unable to walk; but 
he was teaching a fellow-prisoner who was beginning to be in- 
terested. Then all specially comforting visits were stopped ; no 
one was allowed to see him but an appointed clergyman, once a 
week, at an inconveniently early hour ; and when he could not 
go, Raj was not taught. Once in four months, Carunia and his 
little daughter might write, and he might reply. The one letter 
he wrote reached the Garden House on a day when the Sub- 
magistrate who had first to do with him was calling on business. 

“T always knew he was an unusual man,” he said after reading 
the letter, “a man of his word. Never a single lie did he tell 
when I examined him before committing him to the Sessions 
Court. ‘Why this fuss and waste of time?’ he said, ‘ Why 
worry about it? I didit; have I not said so?’”’ and he told 
the story of that curious trial : 

“ For the Red Tiger spoke out and said : 

“Your Honour, this burrowing into my deeds is exceedingly 
exhausting for you. See, you have been at it all day and have 
not got very far. I, too, am tired of it. I am tired of standing 
in this box’”’ (by which he meant the prisoner’s dock, which 
indeed is narrow after the forest). ‘‘‘ See,’ he said, as if J could 
change customs, ‘let us conduct the matter sensibly. Ask me 
concerning my deeds, I will tell the truth. Having done the 
deed, I will say I did it. Not having done it, I will say I did not 
do it.. There are plenty of deeds that I did, to convict me. I 
did them, I and no other. Let be, then, this weary chatter.’ ”’ 

“IT was amazed,” said the good Sub-magistrate. ‘‘ A most 


4 


I HAVE LEFT THE WRETCHED WAYS 79 


unusual man was he; he had no pleader, he spoke for himself, 
as I have said.” 

“Then I made him understand that the Law acts entirely 
otherwise. Evidence is required, and witnesses. Whereat he 
laughed, being as well aware as I of the way such may be 
furnished. And he seemed to think it a pity the Law was so 
arranged. ‘For is it not a waste of time?’ said he. ‘ Are we 
not weary of it already, and what shall we be by the time we 
have finished ?’ ” 

“Yes, unusual was he in the manner of his mind, of that there 
is no doubt, and never a man will be found to say he would lie 
over any of his misdeeds, and that was before his change of mind. 
epee he is a man by disposition most scrupulous about the 
truth.” 

The letter ran as follows : 

“To my mother with all salutations, with prayer and worship 
is written : 

“Your letter which was desired, and my child’s, I received 
with much joy, and I thank God. I am well, my leg is healed. 
My bad desires have all left me, and, being as one who is un- 
forgetting, I praise the Lord, the Doer. Since my baptism my 
evil desires have changed and gone. I am loving God day and 
night. I have left the wretched ways of the abominable devil 
and in the way of the one Son Jesus the Lord I now come walk- 
ing. That is to say, I am as the prodigal son. Because he did 
not repent, he had much tribulation: then to his Father he 
went, and showed love. Even so I, because of my sins, had much 
tribulation. Then I came close to our Lord’s feet. 

“The golden words you sent me, with much attention I have 
read, and reading I received comfort. I have heat of longing to 
see you. I will never forget the Lord, He is in my thoughts. I 
will never forget the Lord.” And he sent grateful thanks to all 
who had prayed for him, and for the first time signed himself by 
his baptismal name. We keep to the old home name in this 
story, for to the Western ear his new name would convey nothing 
but length. But to the Indian ear it carries treasure. The name 
looks to the God of gods, to the joy of access, to the blessedness 
that follows such access. And to some who knew the secret of 
its bestowal there was more than even this in the name, even a 
promise of blessing to others. 

From this time on, Raj talked fearlessly and earnestly with 
the other patients in the hospital and with any who were allowed 
to see him. When his trial in the Sessions Court began, he found 
that an old friend was being tried by the same court. It was 


80 RAf#, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Pon, whom he had warned not to join him on the road, but who 
had been accused of robbing with Raj. 

Raj could do only one thing to make up for the wrong he had 
done to his friend by going to his house for an occasional meal, 
and so involving him in trouble. That one thing he did. To 
Pon, smarting under a sense of injustice, for he had not robbed 
one anna’s worth from any man, he spoke of the love of Jesus, 
the innocent Prisoner. ‘‘ He poured the love of Jesus into my 
heart,’’ said Pon afterwards. ‘‘ He poured it in, saying, ‘So 
much He loved that He died for us; even for me who did in 
truth rob, He died.’’’ And as Raj talked, the bitterness passed 
from Pon. ‘‘ And see,’ said Raj, “my book says that as we 
brought nothing with us when we came into the world we shall 
take nothing out with us. The only thing that is important is 
that which will outlast life, and that is the love of Jesus.”” And 
he gave Pon his New Testament, ‘‘ Take it and read it, and thou 
wilt find it here. For this book is not as other books; there is 
life in it,” said Raj. 

Before many days passed the witness that Raj bore escaped 
from the jail and began to work in strength. It was clear from 
the first that to this man, so mightily saved, his religion was to 
be no mere “ ornament of leisure,” but ‘‘ the banner of a Crusade.”’ 
And hopes rose high. Surely not for a day was Raj to be an 
inefficient Christian, “‘the home of a fugitive and cloistered 
virtue, unexercised, unbreathed, that never sallies out and seeks 
her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal 
garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.’’ Surely he 
was meant to be from first to last a warrior of God. 

Pon’s trial was soon over, he was sentenced to three years’ 
rigorous imprisonment and was to be sent to another jail. Before 
he went he saw Raj for a moment in his cell. It was evening, 
and Raj was sitting on the ground with his books about him. 
He stood up when Pon came forward, and tucked the loose end 
of the chain which fastened his ankles into his waist cloth so as 
to leave his hands free, and he stretched out his hands to Pon, 
then lifted them in the salutation of the East. ‘‘ God will go 
with thee,” he said to Pon. ‘‘ He will not leave thee alone in 
that other jail. Read thy book, and when thou hast found Jesus 
my Saviour, tell others about Him.” And, he added urgently, 
“do not forget : tell others.” 


PLEAD GUILTY 81 


CHAPTER IX 
PLEAD GUILTY 


CAN mere words describe the terrible feeling that creeps over 
the man who is locked up: the frantic desire to escape and 
mix again with fellow-man, of the bitterness of steel on the 
flesh—day and night the touch of steel, the jangle of steel? Add 
to this the strain of a public trial, the foregone conclusion staring 
him in the face that he will be proved guilty, not only of all the 
things he did, but probably of some also which he did not do. 
And the things that Raj had done, and owned to having done, 
were serious enough. 

Add to what naturally has to be, the degradation of hand- 
cuffs and special chains designed for those reputed dangerous. 
For in his character of the Red Tiger, Raj had, it will be re- 
membered, joined with his companions in paying a thousand 
rupees to establish just that reputation. He was obviously a 
dangerous criminal. So he was fastened with a particular kind 
of chain designed for such desperadoes, and it galled him, and 
the odiousness of being always suspected ate into him too. 
“ Every time they fastened those special chains it was a challenge. 
It was as if they thought I was going to break out and were 
saying, ‘Do it if you can,’”’ he said afterwards. “‘ Was I a 
villain that I should be treated as a villain? ’’ And he forgot 
that no one in the jail had ever heard that he had ever been 
anything else. Had he not all but killed his own man ina quarrel 
in the forest ? Had not Undu the Rat told it? Had he not 
attacked his guards, knocked them about so that they had to go 
to hospital where all who came to gaze on them heard the dreadful 
tale ? Had he not escaped from lawful custody twice already, 
and freed his friends and given endless trouble by dacoities, 
often several at one time in places miles apart ? Was not the 
very name he had taken plain proof of his violent nature? 
Who but a tiger would call himself Red Tiger? Of what lay 
behind among the shadows, of the triple oath, of the efforts to 
get honest work, efforts that were bound to fail, of the loyalty 
that never could imagine evil even of Undu the Rat, of the 
well-paid guards, and of many another curious tale they knew 
nothing. Nor did they know of the little sad house that used 
to be home, nor of the ravished joys, and the dead wife. 

Above all, they knew nothing of the pride Raj felt in keeping 
his word, and being known as Raj the Truthful. He would keep 
it now if they would trust him. He had yet to learn that jails 


F 


82 RA¥, BRIGAND CHIEF 


are not conducted on the parole system, at least where red tigers 
are concerned. Sometimes a little hope came when they said, 
“ Tf thou art very quiet they will make thee warder ”’ ; that was 
something to live for. Raj had never a word to say against his 
jailers. What they did they had to do; he knew that. Some 
of them he regarded with affection. 

But his trial was a long-continued puzzle. It was useless to 
explain, as the Sub-magistrate had good-temperedly explained, 
that witnesses were required, and that his hated and forsaken 
sins must be dragged out to the light and proved one by one 
against him, even though he owned up to them ; he was obviously 
bored by what he called the folly of it all. 

And he had opinions of his own about the customs of Court. 
He refused to plead “‘ Not guilty ’” when he was guilty. To do 
so seemed to him simply false. “‘It is the duty of the Prosecution 
to prove thee guilty,’ said Unmai, his pleader, who had generously 
accepted a sambhur’s head in lieu of fees. It was sophistry 
beyond him. His old father-in-law, however, found such a code 
of morals unintelligible, and he offered to pay the “‘ Not guilty ” 
expenses. But Raj refused. There had not been time to teach 
him nearly all that he needed to learn; but at least he had 
learned that to be a Christian meant the refusal of every false 
way; and as he had eschewed lies as a Hindu, he was all the 
more determined towards truth as a Christian. 

Hindu and Christian alike marvelled; and Unmai told 
everyone who cared to listen that never once through the long 
months did his strange client seek by any sort of subterfuge to 
evade the penalty of his sin. Whatever the misery of the glaring 
days and the dark chained nights, he was, as those who had to 
do with him said, “ quiet.’”’ And hearing of his extraordinary 
truthfulness his friends, whose anxiety could hardly wait for 
news, rejoiced exceedingly. 


CHAPTER X 
THEY WILL NEVER LET THEE OUT 


But one day a word came that Raj was surly, had looked 
worried, would not stand, or at least wanted to sit during his 
trial. ‘‘ He was ever a mannerly man,” said those who spoke of 
it; and everyone who had to do with him would admit it; he 
would not naturally be rude. What was wrong? Did the hours 
of standing in the dock tire the lately mended bone past en- 
durance, or was it the spirit that was tired? Either way it was 


THEY..WILL NEVER LET THEE OUT 83 


dangerous. Once let the inward sweetness fail, and very bitter 
would the waters be. 

His leg, now deformed, was a continual fret. Of course, he 

could say nothing about it. He had received his injuries in the 
struggle to disarm him, so Authority held. No one else said so, 
no one attempted to say so. A police officer who had not earned 
a reputation for himsa told Carunia that it was done lest Raj 
should escape, and take vengeance on his betrayers and cap- 
turers. He who had ordered it kept his own counsel. But what- 
ever was said or was not said, Raj knew better than to complain. 
So, if he wearied as he stood there day after day through those 
months, till at last he became worried and surly, nobody knew 
why. Nobody knew, least of all his judge, that every nerve in 
him was rasped like a wire on a file at every word, at every tone 
in every word of a man who walked in and out of that Court 
secure in his unimpeached virtue. “ Stretch out thy leg on the 
table”’ ... ““hammeritnow” ... andagain “ without shed- 
ding of blood, you must break his leg. After you have broken it, 
call me, and I will come and see.’’ Over and over that voice said 
those words. Raj could hear it speaking, but nobody else could 
hear. What would it be, if just for once, for one awful moment, 
the secret voices in such a room shouted aloud so that all could 
hear ? . 
One day, after long hours in the suffocating Court, Raj re- 
turned more than usually discouraged. Every time he had 
raised his eyes during those interminable hours he had met only 
eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes like gimlets boring into him from all sides 
at once. 

For the Court had been crowded. It always was crowded 
when Raj was on view. A queue of men would walk behind the 
sentries with their fixed bayonets. A crowd of men would hurry 
on ahead to be sure to be in time. Many of these men admired 
him not for the best in him, but for the worst; their flattery 
was the pernicious incense of fools. Others were sorry for him, 
but dared not show it. Others went merely for the sake of the 
spectacle. Red Tiger in chains was just that to them. His own 
people of the mountain-foot villages were not there. The people 
who loved him and knew the good in him were grieving at home. 
The Judge knew him only and entirely as a criminal, not as a 
man with a story behind him, and a sore heart within him, and 
all about him a clinging cluster of affections and tender human 
ties. It has to be like this, of course; but it should not be for- 
gotten that it is so. And he returned to the jail very deeply 
depressed. 


84 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


The Judge had his home and his club and a hundred interests 
to take his thoughts off the sordid details of life. When the 
time came, his mind, refreshed, could tackle them again without 
exasperation. The policemen who had guarded Raj had their 
homes, too, and their private pleasures and distractions. They, 
too, could come back fresh for duty. Only the prisoner had no 
such kindly rollers to smooth out the deep ruts worn by the 
weary wheels: round and round the wheels must go, always in 
the same ruts. Back, then, Raj returned that day to breathe 
the same air, feel the same touch on him, the same clutch, for 
he was in the “‘ clutches of the Law.” But that day, just when 
he was at his weakest, someone said, ‘‘ Thou art in for life; there 
are still many charges against thee. Thou hast twelve years 
already. They will never let thee out.” 

And he could not know that it was untrue; that his Judge was 
giving him’ less than the extreme sentence, that charges still 
pending were going to be withdrawn by the Superintendent of 
Police ; for it was even then apparent that not all crime was his 
that was labelled with his name. One little word of this would 
have heartened him ; but that word could not be spoken. 


CHAPTER XI 
OVER THE WALL OF THE JAIL 


AND now the hot weather burned across the land. The Court 
was adjourned. Everyone who could go was off to the hills. 
The Indian clergyman who was allowed to teach Raj was too 
busy to do so. His friends, only some twenty-five miles away, 
who would have given all the cool winds of England for just that 
opportunity, might as well have been at the ends of the earth. 
It was nearly four months since a letter had reached him. 

Only four months, but it felt like four years. He was not told 
why no one came to see him; did not know that one had been 
sent by the friend who had baptized him, armed with a letter 
asking that, instead of the ordained man who could not go, this 
unordained Christian man might teach him; did not know it 
had been refused ; began to feel forgotten. Just a little human 
kindness would have saved him ; for man cannot live by discip- 
line alone. 

So, as the jail lay gasping in the pitiless sun, and the brick 
walls glared on the hot men, thoughts of his forest began to work 
terribly in Raj. Those walls, how different from the cool green 
of trees, those swept paths from the forest tracks, the very 


OVER THE WALL OF THE FAIL 85 


gutters, so neat, so duly flushed out, set him aching fiercely for 
the little wild rivers that run among the hills. At night these 
thoughts wrought in him. He fought them down but they 
returned. 

Then he lived over and over again the hour of his first betrayal. 
That detestable wretch—but he had forgiven him. He choked 
down the anger that rose in him, and gradually peace returned. 
Yes, in forgiving there is peace. But the scalding thoughts 
bubbled up again. What of the second betrayal? Could it 
really be that he must forgive that too? To be hurled on the 
eround and held down and tormented, touched a man’s honour, 
And a dark thought formed and grew in Raj. He must, some- 
how, get out and take vengeance on those men. 

Perhaps if the teaching of those who understood him best, and 
knew the men, his tormentors, and all that led up to the hour 
when he lay on the ground in their hands, could have been allowed 
to help him for just a little while longer, he might have been 
strengthened in spirit to meet this blast of hell. The reason for 
the forbidding of that teaching had nothing to do with the 
teacher, or with Raj’s behaviour in the jail, which his jailers 
said was excellent. The reason given was political, not personal ; 
it was a good solid reason, from an official point of view, but from 
the spiritual, glass for transparency. 

It happened that, on a day after the hot weather was over, 
the lesson read in the half-hour’s Sunday service which was now 
possible again, was from Acts 12. The one who read it had 
never even imagined such storms of temptation as were shaking 
this man to the depths of his being. It did not occur to him to 
guard the tempted soul from a temptation so remote from his 
own experience. And as they read of chains that fell from Peter’s 
hands and of a going out free into the city, thoughts like fires 
alive ran and leaped through the prisoner, who sat there in his 
chains. Wise and kind words were doubtless spoken. Raj 
hardly heard them, the throbbing within him deafened him. At 
best they were but an infant’s pats on the head of the ravening 
beast that had awakened and was beating at its bars, breaking 
them, bearing them down. And with a new madness for liberty, 
a prayer broke from him that his teacher never heard, did not 
even dream he would be tempted to pray: ‘“‘ God! to be free ! 
set us free.”’ 

Then came a great day in the jail. Authority, very important 
Authority, was coming to inspect it. There was no time that 
Sunday morning for any teaching or any help. Raj was required 
to clean the jail. When they looked in his cell that night he was 


86 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


gone. Gone, too, was Chotu, gone were two others. And on the 
other side of the wall, an hour or two before, Raj and Chotu had 
clasped hands. ‘‘ Alleluia!’’ Raj had exclaimed in ecstasy. 
“ Alleluia !’’ So little did he at that moment realise what he 
had done. “‘ And I thought of Peter the Apostle,’ was his word 
later. ‘‘ I remembered that it is written that Peter wist not that 
which was done by the angel ; and I understood that saying.” 

But if there be grief in Paradise, Raj’s angel and Peter’s must 
have grieved that day, What of Seetha’s prayer now? What 
of the things that had come to pass? Had they all gone down 
together in confusion and defeat ? 

It was thus that Raj fell, failing in the hour of his temptation 
“to put on Christ, that great and resistless Athlete,” through 
whom he might have “ worsted the adversary in many contests 
and won through conflicts the wreath of incorruption.” 


PART IV 


Think not that God whose thrifty law 
Forbids a puff of air to die, 

And hoards the juices of a straw, 
Shall let thy pains go by. 


Thy feeblest effort for the right 

That could not any shock withstand 
Shall flame, a two-edged sword of might 
In an archangel’s hand, 


And that dim thought that yearned afar, 
And perished on the swampy sod 

Shall shine, a keen and orbéd star 
Hung o’er the Porch of God. 


Be not discouraged at broken and spilled resolutions ; but to it, and to it 
again ! 
SAMUEL RUTHERFORD, 
1637 


We cannot run our lives alone, the re’s only Ouse who can; 

He sees behind the camouflage that mocks our fellow-man, 

Can sympathise with failure, and can understand the shame, 
Can lift us from the muck-heap and make life a winning game. 


MurRRAY WEBB-PEPLOE. 


CHAPTER I 
HAVE WE COME OUT TO ROB? 


ARUNIA was in the neighbouring Native State when the 
telegram came that told of Raj’s fall. That was a day 
very dark, that had no brightness in it. If Raj had done this 
thing as an ordinary prisoner, it would have been different. But 
he had done it as a Christian. There was no comfort that day, 
no single word of comfort, till, suddenly, clear as a bugle-call 
through the darkness before dawn, came this : 
“ Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall I shall 
arise, when I sit in darkness the Lord shall be a light unto me.” 
It was enough. Nothing could shake that word. 
But it was a painful time. “ He will certainly return to his 
old ways,” said the enemy of souls. He said it continually, and 
so did others. And every time they said it, it was a whip-lash 


87 


83 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


driving to an urgency of prayer that cried and cried again for 
just one mighty boon, even a mighty keeping from that sin. 
And the Jewish allegory about God’s dealings with Adam when 
he sinned was kindly comforting. On that first night after his 
sin, the story says, God gave him two stones to rub one upon 
another that he might have a little spark of light. The rubbing 
of the stones together showed his penitence: the little spark of 
light, the mercy of his God. In the great sadness of the early 
morning after the news of this grief had reached her, Carunia 
found balm in this old story, and asked that the two stones 
might be given to her poor Raj and that he might rub them 
together and see the little spark of light. 

From this time on, for a number of people everything was 
coloured by thoughts of Raj and his need, and prayer rose for 
him constantly in many countries. For some the very stuff of 
life was prayer. Such prayer is apart from choice of will, it is as 
inevitable as breathing. Night and day make no difference to it. 


On the well-side of a little village by the road sat four men. 
The village was surprised to see them, and crowded round 
excitedly. ‘Tellus the tale!’ Rajtoldit. “Ah! Oh! Ah!” 
The air danced with exclamations. 

He sat for a little there, enjoying the familiar, beloved, every- 
day life, quite untroubled by apprehensions. Motors were 
already scouring the country, ‘‘in greatest haste securing all 
arms,’’ as their occupants remarked later, big with importance 
over “special cars ordered on the instant.” But what were 
cars to Raj? At that first hour of delirious delight, nothing at 
all. Nor did he ever concern himself much about these various 
devices for his capture. He knew nothing short of treachery 
could hurt him, and of treachery, even after his two experiences 
of betrayal, he thought little. The papers called him the idol 
of the people, an exaggerated word of course, but at first and for 
some months it was more true than false. Later, when the 
reports concocted to ruin his reputation began to be believed 
in the absence of any single fact allowed publicity on the other 
side, he was feared more than loved except by the men who knew 
the real Raj. 

So, on that first day of freedom, Raj sat rejoicing, tossing his 
careless raptures round the adoring little company ; and swift 
as eager runners could carry it, every tale he told, every gesture 
of the unchained hands, reached the villages scattered on the 
Plains, slipped in and out of the streets of the towns; and new 


I HAVE FORGIVEN HIM LONG AGO 89 


verses were tacked on to the perpetually growing song of the 
Red Tiger, a song no fiat of Law could strangle. 

The morning wore on. The four got up, bade farewell to the 
friends, and moved off across the Plains, arriving after some 
delay in a friendly town, on a road that runs under the hills. 

It is a wild road. No houses are in sight. Few people travel 
by that way. It opens straight upon the mountains. The men 
stopped to rest, and Raj and Chotu slept near by while the two 
others watched. 

Presently a solitary traveller passed along the road; he had 
money, and the two who were still thieves relieved him of all 
he had. He cried out, and this awoke Raj and Chotu. 

Raj blazed. ‘‘ Shame upon you! Have I come out to rob?” 

The traveller told afterwards how he made the others return 
all they had taken. ‘‘ And I gave him a trifle in my gratitude,”’ 
he said, “‘ and he took it gladly, being assured I desired him to 
have it.” 

The traveller had hardly gone when there was the sound of 
a motor in the distance. Down dropped the four behind some 
rocks and bushes, and watched it from within a few feet of the 
road. ‘‘Itis she!’ said Raj under his breath to Chotu, and he 
held himself back by strong will from stopping that car; for the 
one in the car was Carunia, called home by the news of his escape. 

A friend had offered to take her in his car. Thinking of Raj 
and only of him, longing to reach him and persuade him to return 
at once, those friends passed within perhaps six feet of him and 
did not know it. The carspedon. Raj gazed after it, but made 
no sign, for he could not know that the driver was a friend. 

The car passed the traveller too. But he plodded on in silence. 


CHAPTER II 
I HAVE FORGIVEN HIM LONG AGO 


WHEN first Raj escaped, he took very little trouble to cover his 
tracks ; in fact, he seemed to scatter clues like bits of paper ina 
paper chase. Quite openly on the day of his escape, he sent a 
reassuring message to the Garden House, apparently not in the 
least realising the grief his defection had caused. Perhaps he 
was too excited to realise anything just then but the joy of liberty. 
The pangs came later. That day the world smiled. 

It smiled as Raj and his party passed a hamlet where there was 
one who could supply the white cotton cloth which would make 
it possible to discard their jail clothes. It smiled still more when, 


90 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


a little later, Raj faced the stone image of the demon known as 
the Life of Wild Places whose image he had so often worshipped 
as he raced off the road up to his cave among the rocks. 

This image, more or less life-size, and usually jet-black and very 
fearful, with uplifted hand grasping a dagger, may be seen on the 
open roadside near most of the villages on the Plains. But that 
particular image which the men now passed stood in a shrine, 
and (this was the important point) was clothed. 

Raj knew that the thorny scrub of the forest would deal 
roughly with his men’s cotton stuff ; they would soon want more, 
so he addressed the image : 

“Thou, O Life of Wild Places, hast much less need of this good 
cloth than we. Be it known unto thee, O Demon, that we 
greatly require thy cloth; therefore, O Life of Wild Places, 
kindly give us thine,’’ and without more ado he stripped the 
image, peeling off the serviceable yards with the utmost uncon- 
cern. And as no thunderbolt struck him, the two who believed 
in demons and had stood aside till they saw what would happen 
to him, came forward and were clothed. 

At the first house where they stopped for food the greeting 
was a welcome : 

“In a favourable hour hast thou come, O Raj; we are just 
about to measure the rice for the pot.’”” And instead of measuring 
the grain into the pot they poured it into a cloth and, adding 
the required condiments, tied up as much as he and his men 
could carry. 

Often in the evenings he came down from the valley which 
was his first place of refuge, and walked on the waste land lying 
at the foot of the mountains, and talked freely with any who 
passed, and made arrangements for the sending up of food; 
with him came Chotu, and the two others. This was soon known 
to the police and they set a watch. 

They had a perfect place there, ready made for this ambuscade. 
A solidly built shrine stood under a tree between two streamlets 
bordered with light brushwood. The shrine had only one door, 
and it faced the open space down which the four were likely to 
pass. In it there was only the stone symbol of the god. There 
was room for seven men, and seven rifles, and the door could be 
kept ajar. 

Presently, towards twilight, Raj and his three came sauntering 
carelessly across the open space. Raj stopped opposite the shrine. 
““T wonder what is in there,”’ he said. 

One of his men ran forward to the door. There was a quick 
shout from Raj, “ Hai ho!” and then nothing and no one. 


I HAVE FORGIVEN HIM LONG AGO QI 


Who fled from whom was never told: but there were some who 
saw that eleven-fold vanishing and wondered. Verily, Raj bore 
a charm. 

The valley to which Raj first took his men is one of those 
places which may be likened to a little valley of Paradise upon 
the earth. 

The river flows on a wide bed of smooth, almost polished 
rock, coloured blue-grey, pink and, in parts, rose. Not a stone 
lies on that bed, nothing distracts the eye from the rare colour. 
Above on the one side, upon the wooded bank, is a hostel built 
for the convenience of the pilgrims who go to worship on the 
Rosy Rocks. On the other, the massive head of a mountain, 
bare and delicately painted, looks over the lower hills with an 
air so serene, so benign, that an expression of kindness seems to 
fill the valley. All round behind the hostel, range beyond range 
are the mountains of the west. The ravine opens to the east where 
it falls steeply through the forest. And to the east is the sea. 

Follow this river down and you come to a drop of some sixty 
feet ; and here there is a room with walls of rock and greenwood. 
The floor of the room is rock and water. 

From the wall which is rock, large smooth slabs are thrust 
forth so as to overhang or lie in the water. Sometimes, as if 
carved on purpose for a pillow, there is a higher ridge at one end 
of the slab. From these superb couches you look down and see 
little fishes swim, and water spiders and water beetles play their 
tireless games ; and water shadows and reflections dance upon the 
stones. A scorpion creeper with its fruit of ribbed velvet terra- 
cotta, swings from the highest bough of a tree; those glowing 
lighted clusters give the point of bright colour in the room. But 
for that, the colour scheme is soft, subdued into one quiet har- 
mony, yellows, and old worn greys and pinks, and the darkness 
of weathered rock and the golden brown of pools of water. 

And, except in the monsoon when the river is in flood, the 
water keeps the colour rule, it flows softly. When Raj went 
up with his three men it was all a whisper and a singing. The 
little playing waterfall, the running stream on its lovely bed, 
filled the air with that sound of content that seems to ripple 
over the furthermost shores of being, smoothing, soothing, 
comforting : a very coolness of sweet sound. 

Raj had left the jail with the intention of living straight. Rob 
he would not, nor allow robbery. But well within his reach was 
his false friend under whose roof he had been sold to the police ; 
and, though he had forgiven him and had no intention of hurting 
him, he did intend to force him to pay what he owed, If he could 


92 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


give him an uncomfortable half-hour in the process, so much 
the better. 

But as he woke up morning by morning on the stone that 
looks into the clear water, as the music of the water entered into 
him, he found that hard thoughts were slipping away from him. 
He seems to have been surprised at himself ; perhaps he did not 
know that he had suffered this river-change till the two who were 
by profession thieves suddenly confronted him with a new 
proposal: ‘‘ Let us terrify him, that false friend of thine, and 
recover the money.” 

“No,” said Raj. 

“We do not ask thee to do it, only to describe the house to 
us’’: for they did not happen to know it, and were taking no 
risks, 

‘But I do not want the thing done at all,” said Raj. 

“We shall not do him harm. Only we shall force him to give 
up the money.” 

““ Nay, I do not wish it to be done.” 

“But the money is thine, not his. And he is a destroyer of 
his friends, a cur and a craven. Hast thou forgotten the shame 
of that betrayal ? ”’ 

Raj had not forgotten: he burned hotly as they talked. The 
other two cursed the betrayer. They cursed him root and branch. 
Raj badly wanted to curse him too: something in him refused. 
But it was a mighty struggle and he wavered: then—‘‘O 
brothers, stop!’’ he cried desperately ; ‘“‘I want no revenge. 
I will not take revenge.”” The others were incredulous : 

“See, here is thy gun.’”’ (Raj had commandeered one and had 
sent a message to that effect to the owner who had responded 
suavely, ‘‘ Let me have that back, I will give thee another.’’) 
“‘ The thing is too trivial for thee to touch,”’ continued the would- 
be champions. ‘‘ Only let us know the house.” And they con- 
tinued to press him, finding themselves quite at a loss to account 
for such a whim. The Hindu who had found them out and brought 
them food was standing by, and he listened with equal in- 
credulity. 

“‘ Tell us thy reason,” said the robbers impatiently, “‘ if reason 
thou hast for such strange talk.”” And the Hindu watched Raj, 
wondering what he would say. 

Raj said nothing for a while, at last he spoke slowly. “I have 
learned to say the Lord’s Prayer: that is the prayer of the 
Christians. I am a Christian now. And I have been forgiven, 
therefore I must forgive.” 

It was crass folly to the others, And as they thought of that 


TELL HER I HAVE FORGIVEN THEM TOO 93 


man with his ill-gotten gains, and found they must let go the hope 
they had hugged in their hearts ever since they followed Raj to 
the forest, they reproached him with energy. 

But the very expression of his resolve had confirmed Raj in 
his determination to carry it through. He looked back to an 
hour when, for the first time, he had understood a little of the 
demands his new Lord made upon him. He had willed to forgive 
his betrayer then. He had not realised that if one forgives, one 
must act as if one had forgotten, till unawares the memory of the 
injury drops out of mind and cannot be found even when one 
looks for it. He took his stand on the old act of the will: ‘‘ Nay, 
I will be no party to any trouble done to him. I have forgiven 
him long ago.” 


CHAPTER III 
TELL HER THAT I HAVE FORGIVEN THEM TOO 


But a harder fight had to be fought and won. The brothers 
of the village where the herons roost had appeared outside the pale. 

In the jail hospital when Raj lay thinking over the words of 
his book, and realising that his false friend must be forgiven, 
he did, as he believed, forgive ; and his forgiveness was honest, 
if not, at first, generous. But the brothers, the infamous brothers 
—that ten minutes’ himsa had left its mark, a humped-up bone 
that could not be forgotten. It stared at him ; it spoke one word 
and only one—“ Revenge.’ He could feel the blows of the pestle, 
the grasp of the hands on his foot, the twisting ; he could feel it 
all, even the agonising jar of that toss into the cart. Raj was not 
vindictive by nature, but forgive? How could he forgive ? 
Could it even be right to forgive? The hope of avenging that 
insult had dangled like a bait over the wall of the jail. He had 
fully intended mischief to those brothers when he climbed that 
wall and dropped on the other side. To leave them unpunished 
smacked of cowardice. Noman had ever yet called him a coward ; 
no, nor ever should, he had told himself, as he passed the house 
in the Village of the Herons on his way to the forest. He would 
not fall on his foes unwarned ; but he would fight them just as 
soon as he could. 

Now was his opportunity. The two older men were ready to 
help him. Chotu, a young bulldog held in leash, asked for nothing 
better. 

But the stillness of the valley entered deeper into him, and 
something greater than the stillness. 

For lo, He that formeth the mountains and createth the wind, 


94 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


and declareth unto man what is his thought, that maketh the 
morning darkness and treadeth upon the high places of the earth, 
He had a regard to this man of the mountains and the winds and 
the high places, and though his morning had been turned to 
darkness it was only that he might be led through darkness to 
the light that cannot ever be shadowed or eclipsed. And cruel 
desires passed from him: the dark powers withdrew. And Raj 
sang with the birds and the waters and the wind in the trees 
on the day when at last he could send this message to his friend : 
“ Tell her that I have forgiven them too.” 


6 


The mountains look down to-day upon this little valley of 
quietness with the same tranquil kindly air. The river sings the 
same peaceful song, the place is unchanged, only empty now. 
The hearth-stones, blackened from the last cooking-fires, are all 
that speak of the man who fought his battle there and learned 
to forgive his enemies. 


CHAPTER IV 
MADCAP 


“HE will starve and we with him.” 

It was one of the two older men who was talking. ‘‘ What is 
this? To live without robbing and without revenges ? Come, 
let us go or we too shall starve ; ’’ and they went to Raj and up- 
braided him and departed. One of them, finding his people 
would have nothing to say to him, gave himself up. The other 
disappeared. 

Raj, for whose sake supplies had come up, did not greatly 
deplore their departure. With him, too, it was a question of how 
they should continue to live. He had hopes of getting work in 
some of the far pastures where droves of cattle are sent up to 
graze; he had often in times past guarded the cattle from wild 
beasts, and was known and trusted all over the mountains, and 
he might, he thought, get such work again. But he could not 
be sure. Still, for he was made of very human stuff, he was sorry 
to part with even the two thieves, and he turned to Chotu. 

“Wilt thou also go away ?”’ 

Chotu had never thought of going away. ‘I am flesh of the 
finger tip to thy finger nail,’ was all he had to say to it, and he 
clave to Raj to the end. 

But though he would not rob, the old madcap spirit was all 
alive in Raj, and the time was crammed with tales of him. One 


MADCAP 95 


of these had to do with the hostel that stood on the bank up- 
stream from the room whose walls were rock and forest. The 
hostel had two verandahs, mere sheds roofed with palm leaves. 
And as both verandahs were in a tumble-down condition they 
made good cover for a posse of police which, about this time, was 
sent up. 

Opposite the hostel, on the bank of the river commanding it 
and the grassy space in front, is a black boulder, which will for 
ever be known as Raj’s Rock, for upon it he often stood gazing 
down to the Plains, watching for the coming of friends or foes, 
and thinking, thinking, thinking, as he watched. 

One day as he stood there he saw, walking up and down on 
the grassy level in front of the hostel, ten policemen, each with 
his gun over his shoulder. They had not seen him. 

By slipping down through the grass and bushes and crossing 
the stream quietly as he well knew how to do, Raj could have 
approached the hostel from the back. It is a small windowless 
building, and so built that one could creep up from either side 
and shoot before a man walking on the grass in front would know 
anything. Raj stood on his stone and shouted. 

“Hai! Ho! Have you come up here to shoot me? Could 
I not shoot you if I chose ?”’ and he shot up into the air. 

The men on the grass heard the shout and, running together, 
saw Raj on his rock and took aim, but he was gone. 

“ He is out to kill,” had been the word passed among the 
people on the Plains: it had reached Authority who quoted it, 
and to this story returned answer, “‘ His powder was wet.”’ But the 
people laughed; whatever Raj did not do, he kept his powder dry. 

And once he came down and went to a festival, and the priest 
offered him food which had been devoted to the god. But he 
explained openly before a great concourse of people that he was 
a Christian now and could not eat food offered to gods. No one 
took offence, but the tale spread, as all the Red Tiger tales did, 
till it reached his hunters ; after that time they attended festivals, 
but they never saw him. Sometimes he would visit the chief 
man at some great gathering, and often one who had been con- 
versing affably with the men of the Law would, a few minutes 
later, be deep in talk with Raj round the corner of the temple 
or even out in the open ; for the people had no idea of giving him 
up. ‘“‘ Why should we, when he lives without sinning ?”’ they 
said. Up till now there had been no way by which Carunia could 
reach him, though he had sent her messages by devious ways 
impossible for her to track. These messages professed nothing 
very high, there was no word of coming in. “ Fear not: only 


96 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


continue to pray for me. I was very sad to hear that you are 
grieved. But I have not forgotten; I will not rob. I think of 
you and of my little children,” was the tenor of his messages. 
Or, as when the word about the brothers came down, “ Zell 
her that I have forgiven them too.” | 


CHAPTER V 
MY MIND REFUSED TO DESIRE 


MEANWHILE the Garden House lived on the edge of a vexed sea, 
or, like a little island of peace in the midst of that sea, con- 
tinued its daily life as if robbers at large, and police everywhere, 
and spies watching each movement of those in the house, were 
native to that life. The constantly changing personnel of the 
police who took part in the hunt, both in British India and the 
adjoining Native State, offered new and good opportunities to 
be bought up as constantly, and young Christian men, who had 
been Hindus not long before, went out on bicycles all over the 
countryside, and into the Native State, laden with books, Gospels, 
stories of power and joy, and little wordless books, with their 
black, red, white and gold pages: and they found that many 
a poor bored policeman who had to sit for hours on a stone by 
the wayside guarding the roads, or watching for the elusive Red 
Tiger, was glad to have those books. So the message was borne 
far. There were preaching tours undertaken too, which carried 
it still further. And wherever the messengers went they found 
the people full of new tales about the Tiger, who was so unlike 
his name that people smiled as they continued to use it, “ for 
no Red Tiger is he.”’ 

One of the Garden House messengers belonged to a powerful 
wealthy clan, and his people in travelling frequently met Raj, 
and told their relative of these encounters. 

One day his uncle who was journeying to the Native State 
was stopped by Raj and Chotu who, in the immemorial way of 
India, not having food, asked for it. 

“Tam not travelling with money,” said the traveller, who knew 
Raj though Raj did not know him. And Raj salaamed and would 
have let the cart go on, had not the traveller pulled out a rupee 
and four annas. 

“Stay, I have this trifle with me. It is all I happened to bring. 
Take it and welcome.” And he gave the money anda muslin scarf. 

Raj thanked him, and the cart proceeded, to be presently 
stopped by a shout : 





Photos by (1 & 2) A. G. Arnot, (3) F. E. Beath 
RAJ’S HOUSE 
The little sad house that used to be home, now quiteruined. (Page 35.) 


THE HOSTEL 


Round the cooking stones in the foreground of the shed to the left the seven spies 
sat, whom Raj bluffed on the day Kumar passed up the hill. The shed to the right 
looks across the river to Raj’s Rock. (Pages 95 and 209.) 


THE RIVER BED NEAR THE JOYOUS CITY 


Where Raj played his last games of hockey with the boys of the town. His children 
are looking for fish in the shallow water. (Page 54.) 


= 
an 


SS S 





‘ a 7 ‘ | 

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. | ahi® + 1a = Syl, @ 
ve ye 


A ; ath ' : 
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VG OS ieee hg 
; - 7 : bah ia . ie = : ie: 


Le te A - 


MY MIND REFUSED TO DESIRE 97 


“ But what about the toll? You will want the four annas 
(about fourpence) for the toll. The rupee is enough for us. 
It is enough for the day’”’; and astonished, the traveller took 
the four annas, which in truth would be wanted for the toll in 
a few minutes. Naturally, he told the story wherever he went. 
It presently reached the young messenger’s parents. They had 
been indignant when their son became a Christian; he had 
disgraced them, they would not forgive him; but when they 
heard of that returned four annas they began to wonder whether 
there was not something in Christianity. 

Once again, a party of jewelled women belonging to the same 
clan who were travelling with their servants met Raj and Chotu. 
Not a policeman was in sight. The driver knew them, there 
would have been no thought of resistance. The cart stopped. 
But Raj smiled at the women. ‘‘ Fear me not. I will not do 
anything. But we are hungry. May we have a little rice? ”’ 
The women had some, done up in bundles for the journey. 
They shared it lavishly, and the driver gave hima couple of cigars. 

A week or two later when this story had flown everywhere, 
a friend met Raj on the mountains and asked him what he felt 
when confronted with this temptation. Was not the pull of the 
old life strong ? 

He thought for a moment, evidently to find words for the new 
sensation. At last he said, ‘“‘ My fingers twitched to take them ”’ 
(the thick masses of jewels hanging from the women’s ears, 
the chains and bangles and anklets), ‘‘ but my mind refused to 
desire.” 

About this time Neethi, an elderly Christian of upright 
character who was staying in a village near the foot of the hills, 
heard that the two were there and wanted to see him ; and late 
one evening before he could say yea or nay, they had come into 
the room where he was, and were kneeling before him. 

“Pray with us,” said Raj eagerly. But the Christian was 
afraid, he trembled knowing the danger of speech with these two. 

“T shook,” he said in telling of it. “I shook, yea I trembled, 
my flesh quaked.’’ Never was flesh less intended for such a 
moment. ‘‘ But Raj revived me. He said, ‘ Fear not, do not 
tremble so. Is not the Lord, the Doer, with us ?’ and suddenly 
I found myself in prayer with them. I raised my hands; I 
put my right hand on the one head and my left on the other, 
and I prayed that they might be kept from sin, never yielding to 
any kind of temptation, and they most earnestly prayed with me.”’ 

There in the little closed room, lit by a small brass lamp, the 
white-headed Christian, who had walked in the way he should 

G 


98 RAf, BRIGAND CHIEF 


go all the days of his life, and the two who had wandered so far 
from the right way, talked for a while together. 

From that night on, nothing could shake that Christian man 
in his faith for Raj and Chotu. He could not have explained the 
phenomenon of conversion in terms of modern thought. He 
knew as little of such terms as the two did who had craved his 
sympathetic prayer. But this he apprehended though he could 
not have so expressed it, that, in “‘ the region of the heart in 
which we dwell alone with our willingness and unwillingness,” 
these two had willed to do right. And with them all through 
the burning days that were to come, he, and many another, saw 
the Form of the Fourth who had been with the three in that 
little closed room. 


CHAPTER VI 
THREE FIERY NIGHTS 


ALL this time there had been the keenest desire to reach Raj 
direct (Carunia had been officially asked to do this), and get him 
to consider surrender. No one then foresaw what was approaching 
of complex hindrance. The one obvious thing was simple enough, 
a willing surrender. 

But low reach him? His messengers never knew where he 
would be by the time they could return to the place where he 
had been. And not all were willing to return. It was too danger- 
ous. For now, the countryside swarmed with spies drawn 
by hope of reward. But Carunia had given books to everyone 
likely to fall in with Raj, and some of these books he had grate- 
fully received and was known to be reading. This news quickened 
hope. 

One day a stately figure crossed the compound of the Garden 
House, and was presently standing in Carunia’s room. There 
was a dignity and a calm about the man that drew her regard, 
and she considered him attentively. 

He was tall, and clad in spotless white. His white turban 
was twisted about a finely formed head. His frank strong face 
was lighted by a most benevolent smile ; his bearing was that 
of a mountaineer. He said that he had heard of Carunia’s care 
for Raj and Chotu, and, having seen them in the forest, in a 
cave by a beautiful river, he thought she might like to hear of 
them. He had been out of India for many years and was here 
on a visit. His family owned land on the mountains, and he 
was up there when he had chanced upon the men. 

Then he told her about them, and as he warmed to his subject, 


THREE FIERY NIGHTS 99 


he said with a compassionate inflexion in his voice, “‘ It did seem 
to me such a strange thing that they should be hunted like man- 
eating tigers. I found them exceedingly gentle. And yet they 
are so harassed by the prospect of being captured and of suffering 
from himsa that they have no peace except when they can 
forget their deplorable condition. And this they do sometimes, 
for many love them and are good to them. It was extraordinary 
to me to see how much they are loved, Raj especially ; though 
at great hazard food is taken up, they have at present sufficient ; 
and not only so, a large pot for the boiling of water has been 
taken up, so that if he will, Raj, who is very particular about 
his person, may bathe in hot water.” 

And he told an amusing story of how Raj sharpened his big 
hunting knife on the stones and used it for razor. He was clumsy 
at first, he said, for, according to the custom of his people, Raj — 
had always been shaved by the barber, but he hated being “in 
a mess,’ and the process of growing a beard was, he considered, 
““messy,’’ so in spite of cuts and scratches he had persisted, 
and managed to keep tidy. A looking-glass about two inches in 
diameter had been sent up, and the big knife and the little glass 
working together tickled Raj’s sense of humour. “ He has also 
Pears’ soap,” said the man in white, smiling at the recollection. 
What an advertisement it would make for the famous old firm ; 
the cave in the forest, the river rushing swiftly among huge 
boulders, the two outlaws with their books, the cooking-pot on 
its three stones, the bundle of rice brought up at such risk, the big 
bathing-pot, the big knife, the little glass, and Pears’ soap. There 
was not much comedy in this long drawn-out tragedy. But the 
kindly elf who moves even among tragedies found a smile there. 

Then Per, the man in white, passed on to graver matters. He 
told of the men’s anxiety as they heard of the severe measures 
being used to force their friends to betray them; these grew 
much severer later on, but even then were bad enough. They 
knew, too, of Carunia’s trouble, and that had greatly depressed 
them. They sent a message now: “ We have heard that our 
mother is sad, and therefore her sons are sad. We had hoped 
that we might have stayed out quietly and found work in the 
forest, doing no one any harm. If only we might work in our 
mother’s garden digging pits to the end of our days, we would 
do that work gladly.’”’ (They meant that no work would be too 
dull.) “‘ But if that cannot be, we shall do as our mother wishes, 
for are we not her sons?’’ A few days afterwards the word fell 
that they had come down and were in a little town at the foot 
of the mountains, where they would wait their opportunity and 


100 RAY, BRIGAND. CHIEF 


come to the Garden House at night when the spies were not 
likely to track them. And they would give themselves up. 

Then it was known that the police had heard of their coming 
down, and that they and their spies had surrounded the little 
town, and backwards and forwards rumours flew like birds on 
wings. Raj was caught on his way to the Garden House. No, 
he had slipped through the net, he was safe in a little house in 
the town, and the people had refused to betray him. No, he 
was on the plain between the hills and the town, and the police 
were after him. No, he was in hiding nobody knew where. The 
police knew, they were on his track, the Sirkar had sent orders 
to get himatonce. They had got him : thus the thousand tongues 
of the bazaar. 

Is there any hunt so exciting as a man hunt? Excitement 
like a fever swept through the countryside. Something had 
evidently passed from high places to the police, for their energy 
at that moment made all men hold their breath. This time of 
intense feeling, vivid to memory as fire itself, began with a sudden 
conflagration in the valley leading up to the Grey Forest, where 
the Garden House children happened to be staying. From above 
they looked down on a valley suffused with orange light. The 
ridges of the lower hills were fringed with fire. It closed the 
valley to any man below. 

“ They think Raj and Chotu are often in that valley. They 
cannot believe that they never go to the children’s house. They 
know that rice is kept there. It is vain to tell them that they 
never go. The fire is to cut off their retreat ’’—this was the word 
that ran to the Garden House. 

On the second evening a valley leading up to a well-known 
refuge was fired in the same way. The fire did not start, as 
forest fires usually do, from one or two centres. It was possible 
to see the scores of little fires springing up almost simultaneously 
from different parts of the hill-side. ‘“‘ They do it with lighted 
sticks of frankincense,” said one of the indignant Government 
servants in charge of the forest, to whom these fires, that ravaged 
between three and four thousand acres, meant terrible days and 
nights of fighting by means of counter-fires. ‘‘ The sticks are 
tied on to match-boxes and left among the grass. But nothing 
can be done to prove it. There is not much left of frankincense 
or match-box after the elephant grass is ablaze.’ The third 
night showed another valley wrapped in flames. 

On the first evening, watchers on the Plains saw only an awful 
but magnificent pageant. Through a telescope the trees were 
seen to flare up like torches. The leaping, roaring masses of 


THREE FIERY NIGHTS IOI 


flame would seize on the low scrub on the edge of a hill, and 
instantly a fiery serpent would fly along that hill-top. 

The grass would kindle, and sheets of flame would rise in acres 
of light. Sometimes the flame would spring up in the air, wreath- 
ing and coiling upon itself, as if the amazing element contained 
a form upon which to climb. That burning fiery furnace was a 
pageant indeed. 

But all sense of magnificence passed on the second night when 
its purpose became known. On the third, when the last of the 
approaches to the mountains was laid bare, it seemed as if not 
even a hare, if there had been one left alive, could cross unseen. 

To give oneself up is one thing ; to be seized another. Suppose 
they were overwhelmed by numbers, as they were that last time 
by the village near the sea, bound, and tormented by himsa, to 
what lengths might they not be goaded by the fearful spur of 
pain? Does not the human spirit, unless perfected, as these two 
were not perfected, react always in just one way to the horror of 
stark brutality ? 

“T watched all that the surgeons did with a fascinated in- 
tensity. Suffering so great cannot be expressed in words, and 
thus fortunately cannot be recalled; the particular pangs are 
now forgotten. But the black whirlwind of emotion, the horror 
of great darkness, and the sense of desertion by God and men 
bordering close upon despair, which swept through my mind 
and overwhelmed my heart, I can never forget, however gladly 
I would do so.”’ 

Thus wrote George Wilson of Edinburgh in the days before 
chloroform, about pain accepted not of constraint, but with 
a mind quieted beforehand by holy exercises, and disciplined to 
patience. Pain can call despair: despair can tear up the very 
roots of faith. So it was not fear of death that held hearts 
anxious and eyes waking through that long night. It was a far 
worse fear. The moon that shone straight through that night 
was never for one kind minute hidden in clouds. There were no 
clouds except the orange-coloured smoke that lay over the burn- 
ing grass. Often afterwards it was as if the wings of God in the 
form of great soft clouds brooded upon the mountains, But 
that night it was not so. Silver, clear enough to cause all colours 
to be distinguished, mixed with the red gold of the fire. The 
little town was honeycombed with the work of spies. There 
was no way to escape in that bright moonlight. Carunia had 
been asked to use her influence to get the men to surrender. 
This was their first attempt to do so. What if it ended in 
disaster ? What if they believed the word that would certainly 


102 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


be told them, that she whom they trusted had betrayed 
them ? 

In the early morning the fires died down, only the smoke 
rolled up white in the dawn. And a word came floating across, 
brought no one could tell how, “‘ We are safe. We were not 
given as a prey to their teeth.” 


CHAPTER VII 
THE LETTER FROM THE CAVE 


It was a sultry afternoon. A knock came at the door. 

When people came from Raj, there was always a pause before 
the messengers arrived at the house. They would loiter some- 
where near, careless-looking and casual ; and two or three would 
come together, of whom only one man knew anything. This 
one man had to be disengaged from the others without making 
them wonder why. He was often a stranger to Carunia. ‘‘ By his 
ear-rings or toe-rings or finger-rings (and they would be described) 
“he may be known,” or “ he will cough so—or move his hand 
so—or flick his eyelashes ; that is the one who may be trusted.” 
And all this took time. On that day, however, no introduction 
was required; but the five minutes that elapsed before it was 
possible to ask the one question that mattered felt like five hours. 
At last they were alone, Carunia and Per, the man in white. 
Then from some convenient corner of his person Per produced 
two bits of crumpled paper. 

‘From him, for you.” 

“From him? How?” 

“Tsaw him. He wrote it. I brought it.” 

“Ts he living straight ? ”’ 

‘No wrong thing will he do. His cloth and Chotu’s are in 
rags, mere tatters, torn by the bushes. They could have got 
new ones. Is not that proof ?”’ 

This was the letter written from a wild beast’s lair far from 
the beautiful river. 


“ Emmanuel my help. 
«With the usual salutations. To my mother: 


“By the kindness of God and your loving prayers we are 
being protected. We fully believe what you write. We know 
you are caring for us. As you wish, robbery, theft, dacoity, 
killing, are things we have nothing to do with. We are walking 
as you wish us to walk. 


THE LETTER FROM THE CAVE 103 


“Many foes have searched for us, but we have eluded them 
all. If it had not been for the Lord who withheld us, we should 
have been tempted to kill. 

“Tf they had not taken us by a cunning device, we should 
not have been caught. If they had caught us fairly face to face, 
we should never have left the jail. As they caught us by guile, 
we felt challenged to escape. We ask you to forgive us for 
leaving the jail. We will not write more. Emmanuel my help.” 

“We ask you to forgive us.” It sounded like the letter of a 
big child betrayed into something badly wrong for which he is 
sorry, and the naiveté of it was like a child too. 

Then Per told the story of the chase and almost capture to 
which the letter alludes. Fifty men had been stalking Raj and 
Chotu for hours and had surrounded them. They were under 
cover, but could see their hunters poking through the brushwood 
and behind rocks. They would shoot at sight. The outlaws 
crouched low, each with his finger on the trigger of his loaded 
gun. At least four, probably more, policemen could be disabled 
before they could discover from whence the shots came, and in 
the moment of panic Raj and Chotu could make a dash through. 
There seemed no other possible way by which they could 
escape. 

But they remembered their promise, the promise given by the 
Lotus Water nearly a year before. It must have seemed an age 
of minutes to the hunted men in the middle of that circle. But 
though they never took their eyes off the unconscious policemen, 
they kept their hands steady, and they did not shoot. One by 
one the policemen drew off and tailed down the hill-side. 

It must have been good to hear this talk, and to hear what 
follows must have been interesting too; but the word sounds a 
trifle colourless. 

“To deliver ourselves up to the jail, of this we have thought 
again,’ said Raj. 

Then Chotu stretched out his hand. ‘I cannot do it,” he said. 
‘We should fall into their clutches, and have I not heard what 
they mean to do to my hands ?”’ 

Then Raj thrust forth his foot ; where the ankle was twisted 
something still grated. He touched the bony deformity on the 
calf of the leg. 

“I too have heard,” he said briefly. ‘‘ Iam not to walk again. 
‘Dead or alive,’ they say the reward is sure. But they do not 
mean to take me dead.” 

In a moment it was as if the place were full of little whispers 
and murmurs. They could hear the words distinctly. For asa 


104 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


shell gathers into itself the sounds of the air about it, and mur- 
murs them into the ear, almost so did that cave murmur to the 
two men who sat there all ear, listening intently : 

*“‘ Without doubt the leg would have been removed that night.” 

*‘ The himsa was so done that there might be a reason for its 
removal.” 

“That was doubtless the intention.” 

“Who would have inquired ? It would have been said to be 
the result of the fight.”’ 

‘“‘ But there was no fight. Had we the chance to fight ? ” 

‘No, but so it would have been said.” 

‘“‘ Doubtless the going of the white doctor and the white woman 
influenced towards the stopping of that.” 

“‘ About that there is no question.” 

There was not a village for miles round but talked like that ; 
and the talk came up into the cave and whispered round its low 
arched walls, and the roof gathered it up again, and murmured 
it over and over to the men who were all ear. “‘ When a man 
lies roped hand and foot on the ground at the feet of those whom 
he has offended much may be done to him without killing him 
outright,’ said Raj. ‘‘ Himsa is an abomination.’ Per heard 
him in silence ; was the word too fierce ? Per did not feel it so, 
nor will anyone who has experienced in the flesh the awful 
mastery of physical pain. There is such a thing as the “ animal 
consciousness of agony.” Such a consciousness refuses to die, 
refuses to fade. It is scarlet to the end. 

No one spoke for a while: then, “‘ They would mock us in the 
jail,” said Chotu, swinging off from body to mind. 

“Listen to him,” said Raj with a rough loving touch on the 
boy’s shoulder. ‘“‘ Listen to the strong man!’’ Then more 
seriously he said, “‘ He is a weak man who cannot bear being 
mocked.” They left it at that. 


CHAPTER VIII 
A PLAN THAT FAILED 


“IF it were not for the teaching of this book, that floor would be 
piled with golden jewels.” And Raj pointed to the New Testa- 
ment in his hands and to the bare earth-floor of his cave, and he 
laughed. This was in answer to a question asked by the fatherly 
Per, who had again found his way among the rocks of a hidden 
valley between two steep mountains. Like all Raj’s favourite 
caves, it opened upon a river, a little golden streamlet then, but 


A PLAN THAT FAILED 105 


soon to be a raging torrent. And he told Per of how, even in his 
saddest hours, the clear water comforted him, and the sweetness 
of the green leaves of the thousand trees of the forest. But 
there was always the thought of his duty weighing on his mind ; 
for, from the day he had known of the grief he had caused, all 
the best in him drew him towards surrender, though his attempt 
to come in by way of the Garden House had not encouraged him. 

Then for a while nothing was heard of the men. They rarely 
stayed long in any one locality. How they found it possible to 
obtain food through these many quick marches very few people 
knew. But everywhere there seemed to be someone ready to 
take risks with cheerfulness for the love he bore to this robber 
captain. It was not only those whom he had befriended in his 
robbing days who helped him now. (That such did was true, 
for human nature can be grateful; of these the Garden House 
knew nothing.) There were others. Sometimes a man who 
never could have received favours from an outlaw would send 
a message to say that he head heard of Carunia’s hope that Raj 
would surrender. ‘‘ On such and such a path in the upper forest 
there is a tree with its bark notched like this”’; and the par- 
ticular device would be shown. “ Food will be left by that tree 
at such and such an hour. A letter, if left there, will be safe.”’ 
Then perhaps a moment later. ‘‘ But will not the Great forgive ? 
We could raise any sum for security, and men of every caste 
would sign such a petition, yea, even up to thousands of names.”’ 

To which Carunia would say: ‘“‘ There are the past crimes and 
the escape from jail against him.”’ 

“‘ But has not the Greatest the power to pardon ? ”’ 

“‘ He has that power, but where is the proof of a turning from 
sin ?”’ 

“ But do not all know that there is a turning? He will not 
rob. Is that not proof ?’’ And the people could not understand 
that the Great thought the reason Raj was not robbing was 
because he was afraid to come down on the roads. 

So up to the notched tree a day’s journey distant a messenger 
would go, and perhaps find the hunt had turned to that direc- 
tion—not that the hunters often penetrated the forest, but their 
spies did—so no message could be left. But there were some 
who were always on the look-out for another chance. In all 
weathers, when the clouds that gather before the monsoon 
wrapped the mountains in a black pall, as keenly as through the 
sultry days after the fires, those to whom this perilous ministry 
had been committed went up and returned tired out, but un- 
defeated. Foodless often, for it was difficult to carry much food, 


106 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


or subsisting on a few rice-cakes tied in a handkerchief, counting 
nothing too much to do for Raj, those three or four faithful men 
held on in confidence. ‘‘ He is too dear a man to be lost,’ Per 
said one day after a vain search. ‘‘ And Jesus did not count a 
death on the cross too much to suffer for him. It is not much if 
I have thorns in my feet.” 

At this time the Superintendent of Police was away from the 
district ; and Raj, who knew of this, sent a message to the effect 
that nothing would induce him to surrender during his absence, 
but that, upon his return (‘‘ of which I shall at once know,” he 
said), he would try again to reach the Garden House without 
being intercepted. This delay, however, was dangerous, and it 
seemed as if help had come when friends who knew him and 
believed in him offered to shelter him, and, upon the return of 
the District Superintendent, to take Raj in their car direct to 
him. They lived on the other side of the hills. It sounded a 
safe plan, and as soon as possible was made known to Raj. He 
agreed at once, and Chotu was willing too. Nothing was needed ~ 
for the journey but a couple of rough blankets to serve as rain- 
cloaks. And some khaki went up as their own was in shreds. 
Per took a little bundle of books on his own account, and his 
rain-cloak blanket and a change of white. ‘‘ No food is required,” 
Raj had said. “ We have food.” 

It was a risky journey. The name of the friends who were 
ready to help had been pricked in and out of the pattern of a 
belt. They were not named aloud, lest the very air should hear. 
Nothing that care could do was left undone. Per had offered to 
go with the men, “ lest they should faint in their minds,” he said, 
for he knew well what it would be to them to take this definite 
step. The very creepers of the forest would fling out their long 
festoons to entangle their feet and hold them back. 

Did the good angels climb the mountain with him, as he found 
his way up through ravines full of chilly grey mist? Did they 
lead him to a roomy cave when the rain came down in sheets ? 
He found the men at last, and with few words they started on 
their journey. 

They had to pass a place on the mountain frontier where a 
guard was stationed. The pass was watched day and night at 
that time. How they got through Per could not say ; was it the 
angels again ? 

But to what end? For as they emerged from the forest upon 
grass-land, they saw, dotted here and there in a long uneven line, 
crouching figures or figures standing up. There, in full view, lay 
the house of their desires, not more than four miles away. But 


A PLAN THAT FAILED 107 


it might as well have been four hundred. No one ever discovered 
how the plan had become known. Beaten back, the men re- 
turned by the way they had come; and Per arrived at the 
Garden House depressed and discouraged. 

“It is grievous to think of them still in the forest when every 
day they stay there adds to the risk of their being drawn back 
into sin,” he said, and truly. There had been the kindest feeling 
about them in high places, where the sportsman in the brigand 
had appealed to the sportsman in the unfossilised official; and 
everyone admitted that, brigand or not, Raj was a sportsman. 
This disastrous escape and still more disastrous staying out 
would kill that feeling. Carunia had been told again that “if 
she had their good at heart, she would do her best to get them in 
at once.”” And what else had she at heart ? Why had the plan 
failed ? 

It was one of the nights when a demon was being appeased in 
the village near the Garden House, and a band brayed from 
sunset to dawn, stopping only for an hour’s breathing-space 
about midnight. To make the night more hideous, crackers were 
let off at intervals: and guns, borrowed for the occasion, were 
fired as frequently as possible. And there were bursts of shouting 
and frenzies of yells as the fires burned in honour of the demon 
leaped high; and the dancing figures round them never seemed 
to tire. The light pricked Carunia’s eyelids: the noise assaulted 
her ears: sleep was impossible. So she looked across to the hills 
behind the village. There they lay in the magical peace of moon- 
light, holy and calm and aloof from the wild little world below ; 
and yet pitiful, somehow, as if they were sorry for it, not blaming. 
And folded up in them were the two men she had hoped would 
be far away to-night, with their feet set in a straight path and 
their faces turned towards Duty. Why had the good plan 
failed ? Where else would they be helped to the highest ? Think- 
ing so of them—but the word is pale for what filled those hours— 
it was as if now one, now the other, appeared in all but bodily 
form, and there was no relief, till at last, across the jangle of 
the noise, and through all the aching disappointment and the 
longing over them, came a word that spoke alike of each, “ He 
who died for him will plan for him.” 


PART V 


Strengthen me with heavenly fortitude, lest the old man, the miserable flesh 
not yet fully subject to the spirit, prevail and get the upper hand. 


THOMAS A KEMPIS, 
1380-1471. 


Sir, lay the foundation thus, and ye shall not soon shrink, nor be shaken. 
Make tight work at the bottom, and your ship shall ride against all storms, | 
if withal your anchor be fastened on good ground ; I mean within the vail. 
And verily I think this 1s all, to gain Christ. All other things are shadows, 
dreams, fancies, and nothing. 

SAMUEL RUTHERFORD, 


1637. 
CHAPTER I 
BY THE CAGTUS HEDGE 
: HAT brought thee this evening? But it is well. They 


are expected.”’ And the speaker, Per, who had held 
on in faith through the days that had passed since the last dis- 
appointment, looked down with his kind paternal smile on the 
younger man, Dass, who, keen as ever, was all alert and ready 
to dash off and up the hill that very moment. He had come to 
the village about business of his own, and had no expectation of 
anything so interesting as this. 

“ They will tarry by that cactus hedge. Go there and wait.” 
Dass waited, and presently through the dusk two shadows moved 
towards the cactus. There was a whispered greeting. Chotu 
had not forgotten Dass, who had saved him from himsa and 
taken him for that joyful motor ride. 

Then Raj told Dass that he felt a drawing towards surrender, 
in spite of the two failures, and he seemed all but ready to come 
there and then. Dass’s heart beat fast with hope—he was new 
to disappointment—Why not now? But Chotu drew Raj aside. 
“ It cannot be,” Raj said when they returned. A magician whom 
Chotu trusted had warned them not to change their present 
refuge for any other place till a certain date which fell a week or 
so beyond that night. 

In vain Dass declared that the magician’s counsel was a snare. 
“Has he ever misled us?” said Chotu. Dass could do nothing 


108 


BY THE CACTUS HEDGE 109 


to remove the feeling that to cross the powerful word of the 
magician would be fatal; and, bitterly disappointed, Dass 
listened while Chotu said that he dared not move till the ap- 
pointed date. They would certainly fall into the hands of the 
police if they did. Then Raj drew Chotu away again, and they 
talked together, Raj evidently pressing for a bold disregard of 
the magician, Chotu demurring. When they came back, Raj 
said he could not persuade Chotu and he could not forsake him, 
so they would not move for a week, but on a night, Friday, 
Saturday, or Sunday, at about 1 o’clock, they would be at the 
Garden House. As they talked, realizing what it would mean, 
Raj suddenly broke out into pleading : 

“* Ask our mother, oh, beseech her to let us have a little teach- 
ing first. She does not know what she is asking of us. If we 
could be taught a little more, we should be fortified to endure. 
Oh, do beseech her to give us just a little teaching first.’ 

Then as Dass, not knowing what to say, said nothing, Raj 
began to plead again, ‘“‘ Could we not see her? Is it forbidden ? 
We hunger and we thirst for that. May it not be allowed ? 
There is the house in the forest. We could meet her there.” 

What could Dass say? He did not fully understand why 
Carunia felt herself bound not to use the house in the forest for 
their help. But he did know the all but impossibility of her 
moving anywhere unseen. ‘‘ Spies watch her,” he explained to 
Raj, ‘“‘ before she could get there she would be tracked and the 
news would be out, and you would be trapped, and she could 
not protect you. They would drag you out of her sight and you 
know what they would do then. There is wrath out against her, 
because she has refused to be a trap.” 

Raj sighed deeply. Dass did not know what to say to comfort 
him ; but he knew that if they were willing to come in, to use 
the house in the forest would not offend that curious white code 
of honour which all who had to do with the Garden House felt 
so inconvenient, for the Superintendent of Police had offered to 
come there to receive their surrender himself, so that (from the 
official point of view at least) there could be no reason for their 
horror of himsa. So Dass said that if they would go there in 
order to give themselves up, Carunia would go up at once. She 
would be followed. There could be no doubt about that. But 
they would be safe in one of the caves of the ravine and she would 
go to them at night (the spies would be afraid to go deep into 
the forest at night), and she would teach them as much as ever 
she could and show them where to find the strongest words of 
strength, and how to draw strength from their God. Much could 


110 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


be put into those few hours before the District Superintendent 
could arrive. 

‘“ Ah, but not enough,” said Raj, and there was almost despair 
in his voice. “‘ What if we do come in, and then after a while lose 
heart as we did before, and something suddenly happens, and 
we give way and fall again? It will be worse than ever now, 
for they will separate us. For years and years they will keep us 
apart the one from the other—and are we not knit the one with 
the other? As body and soul are we knit.”” And Raj stretched 
out his hand, and Chotu caught it and held it. ‘‘ What if the 
madness come upon us, apart though we be, and we break out in 
that madness? Let us be fortified first. It would be terrible to 
fall again.” 

Dass understood: he, too, quailed before that fear, and the 
broken note in the strong man’s voice touched him. 

“T did not know what to say. I could only say, ‘ Let us pray 
to God’; and we all knelt under the cactus hedge and we prayed 
and cried, ‘ O strong God, O mighty God, hear us; help!’ ” 

When they rose from their knees, Raj said, “I will try, yea, 
I will come in. It is right. God will help us.’”’ And he fixed 
an hour. “‘ Help us, Lord. O Lord, help us!”’ he suddenly cried 
out again as if from the throes of a terrific wrestling. And a 
passion of distress swept over him. ‘‘ Even I could hardly bear 
it,’’ said Dass when he described it. 

Then the two men stole away through the darkness, up the 
hills to the forest. 

And as Dass was returning home, he passed the house where 
the police, told off for the hunt, were quartered. They were 
talking loudly about Raj and Chotu. Their voices carried 
through the open windows, and many besides Dass heard all 
they had to say. Among them were decent men; their loyalty 
must have been severely tried, for on the one side was their duty, 
and on the other was the unforbiddable human nature that 
protested against cruelty. And they knew, none better, what 
was to follow capture. Not all of any order of men are evil, or 
the world would go to pieces. 

But what Dass heard as he passed the house made him wonder 
what those men would say, if he went in and said to them, ““ You 
wonder why they are not caught ? I will answer your question. 
There are a hundred lesser reasons, but the one that includes all 
is this: He who knows your intentions covers them Himself.” 

On the first of the evenings appointed for Raj and Chotu to 
come to the Garden House, a sunset of peculiar beauty gathered 
the world into itself and held it speechless for a while. And the 


DOGS AND DRUGS III 


children of the Garden Village, Raj’s little three among them, 
who poured out of their nurseries to look, were drawn into that 
silence as they gazed up and round about at the overflowing 
splendour. “I see the crimson blaring of thy shawms.”’ It was 
that then; and the red of the garden walks and walls appeared 
to be embraced by the jewelled light. The very dust glowed. 

And as the children stood there, facing the violet mountains, 
their elders looked upon those mountains, and wondered if some- 
where in that mist of coloured air, the men were feeling it the 
harder, just because it was so beautiful, to turn their backs 
upon it all. 

That night the gate was kept open, the lamp was kept burning. 
The rustle of a leaf woke the sleeper who hardly slept. ‘‘I sleep, 
but my heart waketh’’—it was the word for many a night 
thereafter. 

On the second night, the thunderstorm that often follows such 
a sunset came with a swift smiting. But not the scourging of all 
the rods of rain—and the rain that night was like straight grey 
rods scourging the world—would have held Raj from keeping 
his word. On the third night, clouds lay in masses on the hills, 
filling the valleys, smothering the heights. But clouds would 
not have held the men. What had happened ? Per, who would 
have pledged his soul on the lightest word of Raj, went off to try 
to find out. They might have been captured. But no, that 
could not be. The news would have flown on the wind. Was 
the magician in league with the police ? 

Torn with anxiety, the Garden House waited. 


CHAPTER V 
DOGS AND DRUGS 


AFTER they left Dass, the men had gone far up the shoulder of a 
mountain that rises double-headed from the Plains. A river 
flows there, and their cave was above the river. From that cave 
they could see for miles down the hills and across the Plains. It 
was not forest, but wild grey crag-land, a glorious place of far 
horizons. 

On the day before the prescribed week closed, down in the 
villages the baying of dogs was heard; the people knew the 
sound of that baying. The dogs belonged to a clan noted for 
their fierce hounds. They were going up to hunt Raj and Chotu. 

But hardly had the hunt pressed up the higher slopes when 


112 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


down came the rain, the rivers rose, as rivers do on the mountains, 
in one swift tumultuous rush. The dogs came down. Their 
owners wanted to hurry off to their fields, now soft for ploughing, 
for nothing will keep a man from his fields when the first rain 
falls, and the clods are soft. Dogs and men departed, and the 
villages sighed great sighs of thanksgiving. 

‘““ Didst mark it ?”’ said one to another. ‘‘ There is a mercy 
behind all this. No sooner do the dogs go up than the rain 
comes down. Who can hunt in rain?” 

And like the firing of the forest before, this hunting them with 
dogs drove Raj and Chotu far into the recesses of the forest. 

But there are other ways of finding lost things in India. There 
are the ways of magic. See, then, a messenger threading the 
back streets of the town where the wisest of wizards lives. 
Follow him into the little dark house with its curious heavy smell. 
Hear the low bargaining. The magician’s fees are high, and for 
long the talk proceeds, but always in muffled tones. At last the 
price is settled; it 1s never under some ten or twenty pounds. 
Once agreed upon, part is paid in advance. 

At midnight, to the place where the dead are buried the 
magician goes with all rites and ceremonies, and he marks his 
forehead carefully with the medicine whose magical properties 
will preserve him from sudden attack from the offended demon 
of the pyres. In his hand he carries a human skull in which is 
the magic ink. Its composition is secret ; but Macbeth’s witches 
have little to teach the wizards of India; and every Christian 
mother who lives where the old ways still obtain buries with the 
utmost care the first-born baby she has lost, lest its innocent 
bones and brain and blood be used in the making of that ink. 
The Hindu who burns his child feels safer. 

So to that place, with his skullful of mysteries the magician 
went, and inhaling the fumes of the heated liquid he saw visions. 
Back then he returned to the waiting messenger, and soon, 
among the villages on the other side of the hills, men walked 
stealthily bearing a strange drug. It would not kill, so some 
said ; others held that it might. But one thing was sure. It 
would destroy the balance of the mind, and it would first cause 
sleep. In sleep a man can be trapped. 

There was no open talk of this drug, but the men appointed 
to take it up to Raj and Chotu and mix it in their food did not 
keep silence. The first to be approached was a wizened little old 
tiger hunter. He gave reasons why he could not possibly oblige. 
He was old, could not find the men, dared not try to find them ; 
they might shoot him. And he wriggled off, from head to taii 


DOGS AND DRUGS 113 


of him all one wriggle. And the word ran up the hill on very small 
invisible feet: ‘‘ Beware; for the tiger hunter tells thee that 
the drug of enchantment is about to be sent up.” 

“ T have heard of it already,” said Raj. 

The next who was approached made no objection; he would 
be able to find the men; he had no fear of them. He found 
them, and handed the packet to them : 

“ Here itis! the medicine.” 

“ That of the enchantment ? ”’ 

“ Yea, verily, that which was to be given to thee.” 

The messenger paid for his temerity and loyalty to Raj, and 
so did his people; they accepted what came, and made no fuss. 

It was a wet dark night a week later. Far up in a clearing in 
the forest is an old fruit garden. There is a house on the estate, 
and three men who worked there had taken shelter in it; Raj 
and Chotu, washed out of their cave, had gone there too. Happy, 
with the careless happiness of simple folk, they were cooking 
their meal on a fire made on the floor, when the door was pushed 
open, and a man and a boy came in. The man was Undu, the 
mountain Rat, of the inadvertent shot-wound, who had turned 
King’s evidence ; the boy was a lad who knew nothing, but had 
gone up for company. 

Raj could not have turned out his bitterest enemy on such a 
cold wet night. He called Undu and the boy to come to the fire. 
And the other men gathered round, and someone ladled out the 
rice. There was goat’s milk in a vessel near; Raj who was 
narrowly watching Undu, saw him sidle towards it. 

“ Thou hast medicine with thee.” 

“T? Why should I have medicine? ”’ But the Rat’s face 
told the tale. They fell on him, and searched him. And they 
found the powder. The wretched man dropped on his knees, 
fell on his face, grovelled about their feet. 

“It was not I; Oh, believe me! I would never have given 
it. It was they who forced me, threatening himsa if I refused. 
Am I not in their power ? ”’ 

“ Thou art a traitor. Thou wouldst have killed us.’ 

“ Nay, it is not killing medicine.” 

“ Then it is worse, it is a sleeping drug. It is magic. Thou 
wouldst have bewitched us.” 

The grovelling man expected nothing but death. The men 
had their guns; they were furious. The four onlookers held 
their breath. What would Raj do ?: 

“* Thou art a traitor,” he said, “‘ thou art false as——’’ Sud- 
denly he stopped. He looked down in silence on the terrified 

H 


114 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Undu; what passed through his mind at that moment he did 
not tell to anyone. He looked at Undu as if he would search 
the secrets of his soul: then— 

“T forgive thee. Swear on the rice that thou wilt do us no 
evil.” And a pile of rice was heaped on a leaf and the three, 
Raj, Chotu, and the abject Rat, stretched their hands out over 
it, and each said, the two looking at Undu, and he at each of 
them, ‘‘ I swear on the rice that I will do thee no harm.” 

After this they all had supper, Raj and Chotu sharing theirs 
with Undu and the boy. And they sat together in the red fire- 
glow, with the chilly dark of the desolate room round them, and 
the wild sounds of the forest filled their ears, rushing waters, 
branches creaking and moaning in the wind; and Raj, who was 
ever by nature God’s merry man, forgot that death was stalking 
him, and he said, “‘ Come, let us play!’”’ And they played like 
children, flinging their arms round each other’s shoulders and 
prancing round the fire and drowning with singing and laughter 
and shouting the sound of the streaming rain and the wildness 
of the storm. 

Then, as the night wore on, they threw more wood on the 
fire; and Raj sat down beside it; and, pulling his books from 
a little goat-skin bag he had made for them, he read from the 
Psalms and the Gospel, and then knelt down, in the unashamed 
way of the East, and prayed. The men who returned to the 
Plains quoted his words, as he put his books back in the bag and 
laid it under his head: “‘ He said that he had promised her whom 
he called mother that he would never rob, and that by the teach- 
ings of this book he was helped to continue strong in that resolve ; 
and he told us of the teaching ; and loving happy words he spoke.” 
And they knew then why he had not killed Undu. So they all 
slept in peace, and in the morning separated. The men and the 
boy who had shared in this little drama went to their homes on 
the Plains where for many troubled months they were to suffer 
for the sake of that evening. Raj and Chotu went to hunt for 
game ; Undu said he would return to his masters. 

But before he returned, later on in the day, they chanced to 
meet again in the forest, and Undu had his opportunity. He 
had contrived to secrete some of the powder from the search of 
the previous night, and this he succeeded in putting into the goat’s 
milk the two were about to drink. Raj drank a little, knew that 
something was wrong with the milk, stretched himself, shook 
himself, felt dizzy and sick; then suddenly he understood. He 
turned on the trembling Rat. 

“ There is medicine in the milk.” 


ALLIES 115 


“Not that, but just a little of another I had with me. It is 
to guard thee from the cold of this season, and the wet.” 

“ Drink it thyself !”’ 

“Nay, I have already had some; it is excellent medicine, 
but I have had enough.” 

But Raj’s slowly kindled wrath was up, and Chotu advanced 
with the cup. 

“ Drink it,’”’ he said threateningly, and he held the cup to his 
mouth. Undu struggled ; but Chotu forced the drink down his 
throat. He fell into a stupor then, and the men left him asleep 
in the forest. What happened after that only God knows. The 
Rat was never seen again. 

That day, or the day after, as near as could be known, some 
coolies were taking food up to the Forest House, which is in a 
ravine within tiger walk of the house on the estate where Undu 
found Raj and Chotu. {But they met a tiger on the path and, 
hurling their loads into the jungle, fled precipitately. 

A tropical forest is not the safest bedroom for a drugged man ; 
but the forest tells no tales, nor do its rightful lords. 


CHAPTER XI 
ALLIES 


Down on the Plains, one morning the Garden House was stirred 
and cheered by a letter in the newspaper, asking that Authority 
should consider the question of a conditional pardon for Raj, 
even suggesting that he should be sent to the Garden House or, 
failing that, given some other chance to prove his true character. 
The writer argued that justice does not necessarily mean punish- 
ment. It would be far more just to enable a man to fulfil the 
first aim of the law than to punish him for not fulfilling it, always 
provided, of course, that the individual shows himself to be worthy 
of this form of justice. The letter was signed Justitia. And the 
Garden House, cheered to the heart by such unexpected comrade- 
ship, wondered who Justitia could be. | 

The letter was followed by others. Government officials 
wrote ; one who signed himself “‘ Sportsman ”’ wrote; all wrote 
in the same strain, and it seemed impossible that such pleas 
should pass unheeded. Since his escape from the district jail 
up to that date not a crime had been recorded against Raj. To 
avoid trouble a few poor folk had made trivial complaints, for 
if a man made a complaint, such as that one of his five hundred 


116 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


goats had been taken, he was less likely to be suspected of giving 
goat’s milk to the outlaws, and some would even give false in- 
formation to escape from trouble of another kind. ‘‘ When a 
house is searched, what the women of that house have to put up 
with in the way of foul language and insult cannot be described. 
This is the best way to evade it,’ said one in excusing himself 
for such conduct. With these trifling exceptions, which every- 
one who knew the facts understood to be only protective com- 
plaints, there was nothing against the men. They had proved 
that they had forsaken sin. They were often on the roads; but 
they never robbed. 

One of the letters to the newspaper told a tale of a con- 
versation between two men who were waiting for a train: 
“He was very kind to our family. I was taking my family 
back to my village after my cousin’s wedding, when a robber 
with some fierce men stopped my cart. It was midnight and 
we were on the road where the Red Tiger used to hide, so we were 
very much afraid, because we had heard much about his band of 
thieves. 

“ All at once a big man ran at the bulls and stopped them, 
while a bold man looked into the cart and shouted at the women 
to give up their jewels; they were sick with fright and began 
to take off their bracelets and marriage necklets. There was 
noise, and the leader shouted: ‘I am the Red Tiger!’ 

“Then there was a shout from further down the road, and 
another man with two others came along. ‘So you are the Red 
Tiger,’ said the new-comer. ‘Then who am I?’ and he chased 
the other men away and they were very much frightened because 
he stood over them, and took the jewels from them, and handed 
them back to the women. He said he had never attacked women, 
and would never allow any of his followers to do so either. He 
asked for some rice as he was hungry; he said that he was a 
Christian. I had not ever seen him before. ‘ Are you friends 
with the Christians ? ’ said the old man, who had been listening 
to this narration. ‘I am now, and I gave him some rice,’ was 
the other man’s reply. 

“He was lame and I asked him what was the matter with his 
leg ; he was going to tell me, but listened carefully for a minute 
and hearing a sharp tread of boots on the road, he stopped. He 
looked desperate in the light from our lantern, and for a moment 
I was afraid, but he laughed quietly and before I could speak any 
more, he was away in the dark. 

“““ Have you heard of him since, and where is he?’ said the 
old man. 


¥UST A FEW HUMAN BONES 117 


“T don’t know where he is, but I have heard much from the 
people round there. He is not stealing any more, and the people 
have much love and pity for him. He has many enemies and spies 
who pretend to be friends with him, and has had opportunities 
to take revenge on those who hurt him, but it is said that he has 
made a sacred, vow to the God of the Christians, and will do no 
murder, nor ever steal again.’ 

“The old man gave that peculiar ‘suck’ with his tongue, 
which can express so much, and slowly moved away as the train 
came into the station.” 

The letter closed with an earnest appeal from this unknown 
ally that something might be done for Raj. 


CHAPTER XII 
JUST A FEW HUMAN BONES 


ONE day, close upon this; Dass, a youth of many and varied 
interests, received a letter from a man, Poi by name, who owed 
him money, asking him to come and receive it. 

Pleased with life in general, Dass arranged for himself a turban 
of beautiful proportions, and resplendent in a new magenta 
silk shoulder scarf, set forth. . 

“May I be forgiven for a moment?” said a voice from an 
inner room, and Dass sat down to wait in the verandah. As he 
waited, idly sucking a straw, he meditated on the pleasure of 
receiving that long-owed money, He had no illusions about the 
character of his debtor, and he rather wondered at the effusive 
honesty of the little travesty of a man who presently came out 
of a side-room, followed by one whose manner of walking and 
holding himself, and especially his way of narrowing his eyes 
when he spoke, proclaimed his profession and something of his 
habits. He was in the ordinary negligé of the country, 

To a careless question of Dass’s, Poi answered that they had 
been discussing a little matter of bones. Dass asked casually, 
““ What bones ? ”’ 

Oh, just a few human bones. They were wanted for a case. 
And visibly pluming themselves they opened their artless plan. 
Dass would be much amused. So the police officer told how he 
had been ordered to get evidence for the murder of Undu the Rat 
by the Red Tiger. The crime had been committed, or was to 
be said to have been committed, in a part of the forest which 
was over the boundary-line, and they of the Native State had 


118 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


the case in hand. But the only witnesses—some men who had 
been up in the forest at the time—lived here on the British side, 
and they were very stiff and would not say what was required. 
Had he tried himsa, inquired Dass. Oh yes, he had; but 
so far quite in vain. And he had been perplexed, and this 
good friend here, the excellent Poi, had promised to help 
him. 

For he had felt that if only he could get some bones, that would 
go far towards proving the murder. Just two or three would 
do, and Poi had assured him there would be no difficulty about it. 
Dass greatly intrigued, but still lazily aloof, suggested that there 
might be slight difficulties. The Rat had disappeared before, 
it was a habit of his. But he had always turned up again. What 
if, fearing to face the police after failing to drug Ra}, he had gone 
off with the earnest of the money, which was said to have been 
enough to start him in the Strait Settlements? Letters would be 
coming, or he might awkwardly turn up. Then the unreasonable 
people would talk about “‘ polees concoctions ”’ (a well-known 
phrase) and would laugh at them; and might there not be 
trouble ? 

The friends smiled at the thought of trouble. That was too 
remote a possibility to worry over; but there was something 
in what Dass had said, and they retired to consult further. 
Dass, meanwhile, with some concern saw his bundle of money 
rolling off into space. 

Presently the two returned. They told Dass they were much 
obliged for the help he had given, and they had decided on a safe 
course. The bones would be taken up and laid somewhere near 
the path where Undu had been seen for the last time. Then the 
police would go up and search, and lo, one of them not in the 
secret would come upon those bones. Here, on the place of the 
reputed murder, they had been found. The rest would follow 
naturally. There need be no awkward statement. A mere sug- 
gestion would serve its purpose. And with a brief word of 
acknowledgment for service promised) Dass did not inquire the 
terms of the contract), the Sub-Inspector departed. 

Then very gradually and very warily the man of bones opened 
his soul to Dass. Indian talk of this kind is like the glass case 
of sea-snakes which may be seen in a celebrated Indian aquarium 
known as the “ Fish College.’ For the sea-snake ties himself up 
into knots; you cannot see which is head and which is tail; 
and a dozen wriggling all at once are most bewildering. But there 
is nothing surer than that each head has a tail, and presently 
Dass saw the tail of this elongated talk. Poi had been entrusted 


ONE MORE FORTNIGHT 119 


with money, got by the sale of Chotu’s land and intended by 
Chotu for his defence in Court. But if those he trusts fail him 
the criminal is helpless, and here was the money, and Dass could 
have it, for there was little likelihood of Chotu’s ever being able 
to claim it, especially if this murder matter went well. “ Yes, 
it can assuredly be counted on to close Chotu’s mouth,” said 
the man of bones with a chuckle. 

Dass wanted his money, but not at that price. And he flung off 
with a word on his lips that stung Poi into wondering if he had 
been altogether wise. But he had no fear of unpleasant conse- 
quences. He was entrenched in the goodwill of the important. 
He was safe. 

Dass had no desire whatever to be embroiled in trouble, but 
he was courageous and he had some sense of honour and fair 
play, so when Carunia asked him if he would be willing to tell 
this tale to Authority and, if desired, face the officer concerned 
and stand to the truth of it, he was willing. He was taken to 
those who were investigating the matter, and the story was told 
to them, but Dass was not questioned. And the incident passed 
and settled into its appointed place among the shadows of the 
background of the story. But somewhere it appears to have been 
noted, for soon all that was required was furnished, and more 
completely than had been intended. There was a corpse, bones 
and all. There was even an eye-witness. And the corpse was of 
Poi’s unwilling providing. 


CHAPTER V 
ONE MORE FORTNIGHT 


“ LET us go north,” said Raj to Chotu as they looked with disgust 
at the slumbering Rat. So travelling by night they found their 
way to a place in the northern curve of the range, a valley soon 
to be swallowed up in the clouds and rain of the north-east 
monsoon, already heralded by the rain-storm which had filled 
their river and saved them from the dogs. There was a break in 
the weather now, and the valley lay like an open flower. They 
would have chosen to remain in the south, where the valleys were 
sheltered, till the monsoon was over. Wet weather increased the 
difficulty of carrying food up to them ; but the north was safer 
as things were then. They had many friends there. 

Only one man on the southern plain knew of their intentions. 

“ Hearken, brother,’ Raj had said to a simple ploughman who 


120 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


was a friend of his, “‘ canst be deafand dumb ?”’ The ploughman 
thought that he could. 

“Then go,” said Raj, “ go to the Village of the North, and find 
in some secret way him whom men call Gir the faithful. Tell 
him we go to the Valley of the Seven Caves. Tell him he knows 
the cave where we shall be, and ask him to get food up to us. 
Then return to thy fields, and bury the name of that man deep 
under thy ploughing. Tell it to no one.” 

And the plougher went a day’s journey distant to the Village 
of the North, and found the faithful Gir and gave him the message, 
and then he returned to his fields and buried the name so deep 
that no one knew he had ever had it. When people wondered 
where Raj was, he stared stolidly, and did not understand. He 
was as uninterested in such talk as were his bulls, his plough, 
or his furrows. 

And from the Valley of the Seven Caves a word came down like 
a leaf afloat on the wind: 

“‘ By the good power of our God we are safe ; and we are being 
kept from every evil thing.” 

But safe though they might be for the moment, they were 
far from any kind of permanent security and, above all, they 
were very far from spiritual safety. For they moved about 
fairly freely on the hills and, though they always kept the secret 
of their ultimate refuge to themselves, some found ways of 
communicating with them. 

Among these was a relative of the first people Raj had ever 
robbed. He was a rich influential man, and in Raj’s precarious 
circumstances his friendship was of great account. He had a feud 
with a fellow-casteman, and he wanted Raj and Chotu to repay 
his grudge by robbing that man. If they refused, it would mean 
that this rich man, whose word would carry far, would be turned 
to be their enemy; the word of one such enemy could poison 
a thousand minds; Raj had that to face when he sent a decisive 
message: ‘‘ As for such a matter, we will not touch it,” and turned 
that would-be powerful friend into a powerful foe. 

The full consequences of this action were not seen until long 
afterwards when a brave and innocent man was lingering in jail, 
awaiting trial for complicity with Raj in a serious crime which it 
was said Raj had committed. That poor man’s wife had implored 
Carunia to go to the only man who could save him, and ask 
him to refuse to say what he must know was untrue. But to do 
that would have done more harm than good, for the tale that 
such a visit had been paid would have been bruited all over the 
country, and its purpose twisted to make it appear to be an 


POISON-GAS 121 


unwarrantable attempt to defeat the ends of Justice. “It isa polees 
case, so it is undesirable to oppose them,” said an elderly man 
thoughtfully, as a group of anxious men discussed the case. 
“ But there is one who has great influence over the chief folees 
witness ; if he told the witness to tell the truth that witness 
would tell it.” 

The other men agreed that this was true. They were all of one 
caste ; the two of whom they spoke were of a different caste. 

“Then why not go and ask that influential man to use his 
influence on the side of truth ? ”’ 

The men looked at the questioner, their grave eyes searching 
hers with a puzzled yet probing gaze. They had something in 
their minds which they hesitated to say. 

“I know what they do not like to say,” said a lad of another 
caste who had joined the group, ‘“‘ and their thoughts are true.” 
And he told the story of Raj’s refusal to rob even to secure the 
good word of the rich and influential man. “ That rich man is 
my kinsman, These,’ and he glanced towards the men whose 
fine feeling had forbidden them to speak, “‘ know all about it, 
and they know, as I know, that it is useless to ask my kinsman to 
help. He will do nothing to help any man of Raj’s caste, or any 
friend of Raj’s.”’ 

Sometimes a hint of Raj’s steadfastness dropped upon friends 
below. And the lamp was never put out, for any night might 
find Raj and Chotu at the door. And to the men in the distant 
forest the thought of surrender, pushed away by what had hap- 
pened, returned, and approached nearer and nearer till again 
they began to talk of a date. From charcoal burner to woodman 
and from woodman to farmer at his plough a short message 
passed ; hardly one who repeated it understood it. ‘‘ One more 
fortnight, only one fortnight more.’”’ Alas, for that one fortnight ! 


CHAPTER VI 
POISON-GAS 


WE have come to a place in our story where a careful reserve is 
required. The background here must refuse illuminating detail. 
It must be like the background the mountains make on a dark 
and cloudy day. 

Up to this point there was no charge of any moment against 
Raj, so it was clearly and repeatedly stated by those police 
officers who frequently came to the Garden House, ‘‘ Here and 


122 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


there we hear of petty thefts, and some say they are by him, but 
we do not credit them,’ said an Inspector of Police one 
day. “The fact is, and we cannot deny it, he is a changed 
man,” 

All through its years the Garden House had kept strictly to 
its own business. It had no wish, very much the reverse, to mix 
itself up in the business of others. But Raj’s spiritual welfare 
appeared to be bound up with his surrender. There was nothing 
that House wanted more. So when police officers came to 
ask for help, how could it be refused? But now another hand 
began to influence the conduct of affairs. The House was soon 
out of its depth and withdrew. Intrigue is a word that covers 
great deeps. 


' We sit in a cloud and sing, like pictured angels, 
And say the world runs smooth—while right below 
Welters the black, fermenting heap of life 
On which our state is built. 


We quote out of context, but the words pierce through to the 
truth that we mean. 

There was a day when a definite offer of help, unasked, was 
given, so that Carunia might without difficulty communicate 
with Raj, and persuade him to come in. The Garden House was 
surrounded by spies, and as all along the hills there were police 
on special duty, there was no way by which Raj could come to 
that house (as it had been urged that he should do) without being 
captured on the way. But if these various bodies of men were 
withdrawn, it would be less difficult to arrange for his surrender. 
If Carunia would let Raj know that this would be done, her mes- 
sengers would not be followed; Raj would not be trapped; no 
one would touch him, And after his arrest an added grace would 
be granted: no handcuffs would be used. Why use them when 
a man surrendered himself? There would be no indignities: 
Raj was a man of honour; he would be asked to give his 
parole, and if he gave it he could certainly be trusted to 
keep it. 

There were other and lavish promises and, though Carunia 
did not know if they could be kept, she was won by the kindness 
which seemed to lie behind them, and was on the point of getting 
into direct touch with Raj when a message came from those of 
whose integrity she had had years of proof, Hindus of the nobler 
sort, her friends ; and this message discovered the fermenting heap 
of whose existence she had known nothing. It warned her to have 
nothing to do with any such attempt to get Raj in. “ There is 


POISON-GAS 123 


a boast going about that you have been thoroughly deceived by 
a cunning subtle device. Wait and see what the next move of 
the game will be,” was practically what the message came to, 
and thus warned she did nothing. 

Four days later a letter came to the Garden House. It told 
how the search parties had been called off and that as soon as 
this had happened there had been a robbery, said to be by Raj 
and Chotu. Within a few hours the air was full of the obvious 
implication in the form of a definite statement which no man 
could contradict: so long as the approaches to the foot-hills 
were patrolled nothing happened; as soon as the guard was 
lifted, down came Raj and Chotu and robbed. 

But the Garden House did not immediately connect what had 
happened with the previous message of warning. The few and 
fugitive glimpses of Raj and Chotu as they wandered among the 
mountains had been too few and too fugitive to give grounds 
for certainty that they had not fallen. There was no way just 
then of reaching them. But there were ways of finding the truth. 
The country was searched. 

The searchers were honest. They had no axe to grind. None 
of them had an anna’s pay for the work. They were men who, 
for one reason or another, were keen to know whether Raj was 
living straight or not. They had relatives and friends in almost 
every town and village in the neighbourhood ; and, to make them 
still more evidently unprejudiced as witnesses, they were of 
different castes. They all returned with the same word: “ This 
is not Raj, It is a deception of some kind, but of what kind we 
cannot yet discover.’ ‘I met a police constable who is a friend 
of my uncle, so we had a pleasant talk,’’ said one of them. ‘“‘ And 
he told me all about that visit to you. He was certain the story 
was a hoax. He told me he had excellent reason to think Raj 
and Chotu were in the northern hills ” (he named the very valley 
where, as it afterwards transpired, they were at the time of the 
robbery), “‘ and could not possibly have visited a village so far 
south at the time named.” 

And another messenger, a Hindu who knew no English, 
returned with a curious word: “It is known that there have been 
articles in the English newspaper saying that Raj is a Christian 
now, and has forsaken his sin. There are some, and they are 
not Christians, who say that what has happened is the answer 
to that.” 

Soon it was known how the answer had been framed. Several 
men who were aware of the plot to blacken Raj’s name told it. 
Their womenfolk knew of it. They had overheard a discussion 


124 RA¥, BRIGAND CHIEF 


about it. ‘If Raj comes in we will fear no one; we will tell it 
all in open Court,” said two of the bravest of the men. ‘‘ We 
do not know where he was on the night of that robbery ; but 
we know where he was not. Yes, we shall say so in Court.” 

But their courage might fail them. It could not be counted 
upon. To give such evidence in Court would be to risk ruin for 
themselves and their families. And after all, was it of great 
value? Was there not just one unassailable proof of innocence ? 
If only a man could be found who could prove an alibi, then 
Raj and Chotu could be cleared. But who was the man? Where 
was the man ? 

Among the searchers who went out from the Garden House 
was a man who knew all the villages on the southern plain and 
he happened upon the plougher to whom Raj had committed 
Gir’s name; but that good plougher was deaf and dumb. And 
yet the searcher who knew the man well began to wonder if the 
clue to the greatly desired alibi could not be found through him. 
Had he not been in touch with Raj before? Did he not know 
anyone who could tell where Raj had been during that week ? 
and especially on the day of the robbery ? 

He put this to the plougher, but the plougher slowly shook his 
head. To his simple mind the only thing that appealed was Raj’s 
imperative, ‘“‘ Bury it deep under thy ploughing. Tell it to no 
one.” So he turned upon even this < sous friend of Raj that 
impassive countenance that so well*matched his occupation. 
And he went on ploughing. At last it occurred to him to take 
a day off work and find Gir and consult with him. Eagerly and 
at once Gir came to the Garden House. Never was man more 
welcome. 

‘“‘ This is he, Gir, the man who knows,”’ said the friend who 
introduced him. 

“Yes, I am Gir,” said he, and stood like a short and rather 
stumpy tree, foursquare to all winds; and dealing not at all in 
the usual preamble of the East, he stretched forth a pair of 
gnarled old fists and said, ‘‘ Raj was in the forest, up in the 
Valley of the Seven Caves. I saw him, so did many others, 
charcoal burners and the like. We saw him on the day of the 
robbery, and the day after, and on all the days of that week. 
What lies those are !”’ 

And he shook his fists as if he were shaking them in the face 
of the liars. “‘ What disgusting lies!’’ And he shrivelled up 
his nose as if he had caught a whiff of those lies and did not like 
the smell of them. 

“Wilt thou tell this in Court?” Carunia asked him, He 


POISON-GAS 125 


hesitated. “It is a serious thing to go against the polees. I 
have a wife and family.’”’ But he thought it over and then: 
“It would be the act of a coward to be silent,’’ he said. And he 
told of others who would, he believed, be ready to speak, the 
charcoal burners of northern villages and a woodman or two: 
“ They know of Raj’s resolve to live a straight life and they all 
love him, as all men do who know him. Yes, they will speak to 
save him. I know they will. And count on me, count on my 
word,”’ and as if to pledge himself to himself he repeated it twice, 
“ Count on my word.” You can count on nobody, says the West 
sometimes about the East, It is a mistake: there are some on 
whom you can count. 

Meanwhile Authority had motored off to inquire into the 
robbery, and Dass, a man of leisure and interested in his fellows, 
put on a pair of gold-rimmed dark glasses, and his favourite 
magenta, which now hung, like a spray of bougainvillia, over a 
pale green shirt ; and he followed. And as that inquiry proceeded, 
Dass mixed in the crowd, an inconspicuous snapper-up of un- 
considered trifles ; and he found himself wondering what would 
happen if, instead of the handful of worms (as he called them) 
carefully prepared for acceptance, he had thrust his trifles into 
Authority’s view. 

The facts of a matter such as this may be impossible to gather 
anywhere, but sometimes they emerge in the crowd, and these 
did that day. However, no one spoke except the witnesses. 
And Dass, reflecting compassionately that the chief white man 
in charge of that inquiry had probably never told a lie in his life, 
and so was terribly at a loss as he handled that jumble of lies, 
watched the careful taking down of the carefully edited evidence, 
and shrugging his shoulders and muttering something not unlike 
a misquotation of a certain classic : 


Ah, what avails the legal bent, 
And what the official word, 
Before the undoctored incident 
That actually occurred ? 
he departed. 
“A perfect jumble that,” was his summing up afterwards, 
“ lies and lies all rolled up and shuffled together and given to him ; 
and behind in the crowd some knew and looked on and wondered 
if he would accept them; but no one dared speak. Oh, there 
was very good evidence ready.” 
But Dass, who had learned the value of truth, wondered why 
a man’s character did not seem to count where the giving of 
evidence was concerned. He came to understand things better 


126 RAf, BRIGAND CHIEF 


as the months went on. How can anyone, white or brown, learn 
the real character of man or woman, or even of the people as 
a whole, unless he lives among them, as nearly as may be one of 
themselves ; and not for a day or two only, but for many patient 
years ? 

It was thus that the air was filled with poison-gas. 


PART VI 


There have been hours when the black vain covered the mountains and the 
vain-swept plains lay black as death. And there have been times when his 
prospects looked as cheerless, as abandoned. But to-day, though the rain 1s 
not over, the mountains are shining and the great billowy clouds ave white 
and soft and gentle. And to-day, though to the eye of sense all is as hopeless 
as ever (except that there 1s thankfulness in our hearts, for the men are being 
kept true), I cannot but hope. We may be defeated, but Christ is not defeated. 
The gates of hell shall not prevail against Him. 


From a letter written during the course of events. 


CHAPTER I 
THE TAIL WAGS THE HEAD 


a HERE’S right good material in him, sound wood, not a 

rotten fibre. I knowall about his falling into crime, there 
was never a more daring dacoit, and that sort of thing had to be 
stopped of course, but the man himself was nocriminal. Theycould 
have done anything with him if only they had known him apart 
from his criminal record, known the man I mean, the veal man. 
But how could they know? And he did not know that they could 
not know, and now they will never know,” and the speaker, 
a Hindu gentleman, respected by Hindus and Christians alike, 
sighed heavily. “‘I see no light, I see no way out,” he said ; 
“there are thousands who would sign a petition asking for his 
pardon, but it would never get through.” And yet even those 
Raj had robbed, the most generous of them at least, would not 
have blocked such a petition. “‘ We want him back,” said not 
one but almost all the people at that time. “‘ If he promises not 
to rob, he will never touch any man’s goods again. And has he 
not given his word ? ”’ 

But the poison-gas was already filling the air, and some were 
caught in those vapours. “And yet I know the whole tale 
to be false,” continued the Hindu gentleman, “‘ and I only wish 
I could speak out and say what I know, but that would be to 
ruin my young relatives who are in Government service’”’; and 
he told of an experience which had forced him to recognise the 
subterranean ways in vogue. ‘ They are moles who do this dirty 


127 


128 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


work,” he added indignantly, ‘‘ and to me it is an amazing thing 
that such tools are tolerated by the Great, but they are tolerated. 
And now it is not a fair capture that is contemplated.’”’ And he 
drew the side of his hand across the back of his heel in a significant 
gesture that showed the cutting of a knife. 

“‘ That will be done, he will never walk again, they say ; but, 
as before, whatever happens will happen in the effort to over- 
power the dangerous criminal,’ and he smiled slightly. “It is 
a thousand pities he was not encouraged to be patient for a while, 
for there was no venom in him,”’ 

Visits such as these enlightened eyes till then hardly open 
to the strange unlawfulness that is covered by an appearance 
of lawfulness in India. What was to be the end of these things ? 
What the end for Raj ? 

“Tf only we could go direct to the Greatest and ask him to 
let us stand surety—and send Raj back on probation, and you 
could give him honest work and a chance to prove what is in him, 
we would do it,”’ said a shrewd old man one day. “ But in such 
matters as this, how isit? The tail wags the head.” 

“ But for the breaking of laws there must be punishment. 
The Sirkar is protecting you all by guarding the roads from 
dacoity. Was it better in the days when there were Thugs ? ” 
(Thugs, professional killers and robbers, used to haunt the roads. 
They made friends with unsuspicious travellers, even posing as 
guides and protectors—‘ against the wicked Thugs.”” In the end 
they strangled their victims in some quiet place and buried them 
in graves which men sent in advance had prepared.) 

But the old man turned from the greater to the less, that less 
which at the moment was oppressing. “ If we had Raj back and 
the Sirkar made him head of folees, there would be no robbing 
at all on the roads”’ (a frequent word, absurd though it may 
sound). ‘‘ And has he not been punished for all he did? Is not 
his home broken up? Was not his wife done to death? Has he 
not suffered himsa such as the Law would never have appointed ? 
Nay, if only we could, we would press through all that come be- 
tween and go to the Greatest.” 


CHAPTER II 
THE PILGRIMS’ CHORUS 


WHEN Raj and Chotu heard of that first robbery, as they did 
a few days after its occurrence, they were aghast ; for they knew 
how easily the crime could be proved against them. But they 


THE PILGRIMS’ CHORUS 129 


took heart to hope. Men whom they could trust had seen them 
on the northern mountains every day of that week, and there 
was Gir, who had business in the forest and knew all their move- 
ments. Of these some would be, they believed, ready to come 
forward and prove an alibi. But Carunia feared she hardly knew 
what, as she pondered the word that held a cold light to the 
crime committed in the name of the two men. Was this 
the “‘ cunning subile device”’ of which her Hindu friend had 
warned, her? And she recalled the old man’s suggestion that 
the people might be allowed to stand surety for Raj. But 
what if he proved unworthy? Then every good man in the 
country would side with the Sirkar and get him in. Present 
conditions would be exactly reversed; for now Authority was 
up against the best of the people, not the worst. In case there 
were reasons why such a proposal could not be considered, Carunia : 
kept within her another thought. 

“If only we could be fortified first,’ Raj had said; and was 
there not something in his plea? Would it be impossible to ask 
for a month, or even a week under whatever surveillance was 
appointed, with any guarantee? (There was no difficulty about 
the guarantee.) Given such an interval, Carunia believed that 
Raj would be ready for a willing acceptance of the jail. Once 
let him enter into his full inheritance as a Christian, and what 
would walls and chains matter to him? “ Shut in from fields of 
air,’ he would be free. 

She had one great comfort. Immediately after the men’s 
escape from the district jail, she had been told that, if they were 
caught, they would certainly be sent to a more distant place, 
and she had been advised to write beforehand to the Govern- 
ment Servant who at that time was over all jails, and ask for 
leave, in the event of their capture, to see them and teach 
them. 

The answer, which was very kind, had greatly cheered her. 
She hoped that it would show the men the true attitude of those 
in authority towards them, and encourage them to come in. 
They had responded gratefully. Just then the crime charged to 
them had filled them with new apprehension; and while they 
waited in uncertainty, and Carunia waited in mingled fear and 
hope, a summons ¢~ne to her to meet a Government Servant 
concerned in the capture of the outlaws. 

And as she travelled, the engine of the car appeared to be 
making music. She hardly heeded it at first, being occupied by 
thoughts about the interview ahead. So the music beat on for 
some miles unregarded. At last she became acutely aware of 

I 


130 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


its movement and listened. It was the mighty music of Wagner’s 
“ Pilgrims’ Chorus.” 

Phrase by phrase she heard it, beaten out as it were by the 
little engine itself. And the hellish laughter rose and rose, waxing 
more and more hellish as the song, undaunted, struggled through 
the curling, leaping chords, till the burst of demoniacal laughter 
fell back like a spent wave, and the music closed in the triumph 
of an undefeated song. 


“ They are robbing now,’*said Authority with the finality that 
settles things. 

“But they were far away at the time of the robbery. We 
know men who are ready to prove an alibi.” 

Then Authority said, said it plainly (and that plainness was 
surely only kindness in disguise, for it would have been terrible 
to have plunged whole households into distress), that any man 
knowing where the outlaws were, and failing to inform the 
police, was a criminal in the eye of the Law. 

But for a minute or two Carunia heard nothing of what was 
proceeding from the arm-chair opposite. The room with its 
furniture melted into the forest. The men would be sure to hear 
of this interview. They would hope, they would believe she 
would have been able to convince the Great that they were not 
robbing. They must be told what had been said about any who 
could prove an alibi. Raj would never ask for help at such a 
cost. Then there could be no fair trial. Were they ready to 
come in on such conditions? They were not heroic yet. They 
were two poor men struggling up from the mud. Would they 
rise to such heights ? 

And Authority said distinctly that there had been no himsa. 
Carunia was mistaken in believing the talk of the people. An 
armed man had to be overcome and captured. In the tussle he 
had been knocked about, but himsa? leg-breaking on purpose, 
ankle-twisting, and so on? that was sheer nonsense. It had 
never happened at all. 

If To-morrow could speak to To-day, how startled To-day 
would be. A few months after the play was played to a finish, 
and Raj was beyond man’s praise or blame, Carunia, longing to 
bring the message of life and pardon to the men (then in jail) who 
had tortured him, and whom he had forgiven, saw them and told 
them the secret of that forgiveness. 

The brothers stood staring stolidly, each man with his long 


THE PILGRIMS’ CHORUS 131 


ankle-chain held in his left hand. They looked hopelessly bad, 
but is any man hopelessly bad ? 

Presently the older of the two, a ruffian with a shock of grey 
hair not yet reduced to jail tidiness, for the men were not yet 
convicted, burst out fiercely : 

“ The thing is true, and we are now suffering from the judg- 
ment of the God of Raj. What the people said was true. We 
did that himsa. We did it so,’ and in horrid pantomime he 
showed how it was done. The younger and even more ruffianly 
brother nodded grimly. That man, on a later day, boasting in 
another jail of his prowess with regard to Raj, was taught his 
lesson by his fellow-prisoners, for they set on him and heartily 
thrashed him. Officialdom, human at heart after all, turned a 
blind eye to the spy-glass that day. So Justice for once had her 
way. 

But now the brothers, who stood fingering their chains 
uneasily, had much more to tell. The flood-gates once opened, out 
poured the flood. They told why they did that himsa. They told 
what followed. They told of their horror when Raj escaped from 
jail and of their astonishment when they were sure that he 
would not take vengeance. They told, too, of how they had 
hardened themselves, and personated him in the long series of 
robberies done in his name. 

If only To-morrow could speak! Or if in dumb procession 
the things that it will hold could pass before us as we wait, to 
what different ends we should turn our intentions now! Had 
those events stalked into the room just then, and stood by the 
three who talked, what would they have seen? Seven shades of 
dead men. Women crushed and crying would have been there 
too, and wrecks of ruined homes, and many griefs and shames. 
And the sullen stream of himsa and corruption not to be named. 
And the pulling down of a flag and the dragging of it in the dust. 
Could they have seen, would the matter have been otherwise 
handled that morning ? 

“And when they are caught ’”’ (ice-cold was that ‘‘ when’’), 
“you will be allowed one interview, one only.’’ The words fell 
on one half-broken already. A flood surged over her. But 
“ Christ suffers to sink maybe, but not to drown’; and sud- 
denly a Hand swept through the waters and caught her—‘ O 
thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ? ’’ and she knew 
that the refusal to allow the men the help they craved touched 
the heart of God. This was His business. He would see it 
through. This battle did not lie with flesh and blood. She was 
to ask for nothing more from man. The whole matter belonged 


132 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


to the sphere of the spiritual. There would be little of the 
tourney with its gracious ways. It was going to be like the music, 
horrible And the music of that weird Chorus sounded so 
loud just then that she almost wondered why the other two 
who sat in the room did not hear it——-But it would end in an 
undefeated song. 








CHAPTER III 
Ctl Me fae AlN Ys Od 


Back to the Garden House Garunia returned with everything in 
her keyed up to the resolve to try again. The Englishman who 
spoke the kind word to Raj when he was first arrested, had 
said, “‘ If he comes to you, I’ll go out at once and receive his 
surrender.” But would Raj consider coming in if others must 
be involved ? It would be much more difficult to influence him 
towards it now. But what were difficulties to Him with whom 
she had to do? And if the men came in, in spite of this charge 
against them, and trusted Him to protect their innocent friends, 
would He not work on their behalf? So the careful watching 
for an opportunity to reach them, the perilous, quiet efforts to 
use to the utmost any such chance, began again. 

But one day Raj’s kinsmen, and with them one of another 
caste, who till then had been convinced of his honesty, came to 
Carunia : 

‘The matter must be dropped, for Raj seems to have lost 
hope and he has broken out. We can have nothing more to do 
with him.” 

Then sorrowfully they told how Raj had come down on the 
previous evening, and in wrath at being repulsed when he de- 
manded money, had set a man’s house on fire. ‘ And the reason 
we are sure that it is not one taking his name but Raj himself, is 
that the robber appears to have done the thing Raj would 
naturally do. For the people say that he ran to the man whose 
knee he had grazed when he flashed his gun (nay, he shot no 
bullet, only empty gunpowder, to scare them off), and he lifted 
him up, for the man had fallen in terror towards the fire, and his 
cloth had caught fire. And Raj with his own hands crushed out 
the fire; and he carried the man in his arms to the road where 
a crowd had gathered ; and he called two men to him and said, 
“Go, take him to the hospital.” And not till he saw it done did 
he leave for the forest. Who but Raj would have done this 
thing ?”’ 


Wea Y ory: 133 


“But they say he carried off a bag of money. So he is back 
to his old ways and we can have nothing more to do with him,” 
repeated Raj’s kinsmen. 

“ Where is the man who was hurt ? ”’ asked Carunta. © 

“In the hospital groaning on his bed ’’ was the gloomy answer. 

‘“ Could anyone go and see him and hear what he has to say ? ” 

“TI will go,” said the young casteman who had been dis- 
appointed in Raj. 

And he returned with the same tale, save that the wounded 
man knew nothing of the carrying off of that bag of rupees. 
The wound was a mere graze, and the man said, though un- 
doubtedly Raj had done it, it was not intentional. 

“ But it ends all,” said the casteman sadly. ‘‘ It ends all.” 

It did not end all, but it did end hope that Raj had done with 
his old ways; and, as Carunia had assured Authority so con- 
fidently that he had, she felt bound in common honesty to say 
she was mistaken. For six sorrowful days nothing else was 
known. Something stronger than a fear of false comfort held 
the Garden House from daring to credit the whispers that began 
to rise about the reputed robbery. The tale did its wicked worst. 
Some in the official world who might have been moved to look 
into Raj’s matters were hopelessly alienated and never recovered 
faithin him. Then at last the truth became known ; but to have 
told openly what had happened to change a morally innocent 
episode into a criminal charge would have been to end the peace 
of several weak but otherwise worthy people. Raj had not come 
down to rob, but had been almost trapped, and to avoid the trap 
had committed his one crime, fired blank cartridges, hoping to 
escape in the mélée. But proof could not be produced. And in 
any case a lie that has had a six days’ start is rarely overtaken 
by the truth. Sometimes it seems as though lies had wings, 
while truth soberly walks the ground as if thinking it hardly 
worth while to hurry, for in the end, “ above all things Truth 
beareth away the victory.”’ 

But that lie was another of the thrusts that drove the men off 
when they might have come in. And though they still continued 
to drop messages they never said where a reply would find them. 
“He of whom you know is with us and is mightily helping us,” 
was one message. It had passed through five messengers before 
it reached Carunia, but it had been faithfully repeated, though 
not one of the five could have guessed who the mighty Helper 
was. 

Per, too, was reassuring: ‘‘ These two false charges have 
driven them off; but Raj is not a man to change his word; he 


134 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


is still a One Word man. I have been inquiring everywhere and 
I find that, save only in that black year when he could get no 
work, and turned from the straight path, he never walked in 
crooked ways. And even then he was no liar. He has promised. 
He will try again.” 

And there was another, Dura, who knew what Raj was doing 
when he left British India and took refuge in the Native State. 
He knew of Raj’s old record for honesty in business matters ; 
for Dura’s own town had been one of Raj’s markets, and men 
there spoke of Raj as of one whose word was his bond. Dura 
championed Raj wherever he went. He happened to be in 
British India shortly after this last defeat, when Per to his great 
joy had got into touch with Raj again, and had found him penitent 
for his delay, and ready to do what was right, though he realized 
now that he could not call upon his friends to help him. He was 
naturally sanguine, and, it may be, hoped that in some other way 
he would be able to establish his and Chotu’s innocence. ~ 

The roads were watched with a good deal of vigilance just 
then; for Garden House letters had been opened, and it was 
known that there was hope of getting Raj to surrender soon. 
One night when some travellers from that house were peacefully 
journeying to the nearest station, a Ford car that was lying 
apparently asleep by the roadside suddenly woke, flashed her 
lights into the passing cart, and searched it thoroughly. 

This opening of letters, and searching of Garden House people, 
made any attempt to help the men to come in much more 
difficult than it would otherwise have been. So the plan was 
made to send a cart laden with straw to a village near the hills, 
whence in the course of the evening it would travel along an 
unfrequented lane, and wait at an appointed place. Its driver 
would be Per. Dura would be somewhere near by. The men 
would be hidden in the straw. 

By the time this plan was communicated to Raj and Chotu, 
and a place fixed, there was the expected break in the monsoon, 
which gave such a plan its opportunity. But there were delays, 
and the sheet lightning that plays over the sky before rain was 
illuminating the late evenings and nights; and the hills that 
look low and dark under starlight and tall and ghostly in moon- 
light, combined the witchery of both as they rose a white glimmer 
one moment, and lay back a dark mass the next. And this sign 
was saying, “ Hasten’”’; for a heavily heaped-up cart of straw 
travelling in rain would be remarkable and therefore unsafe. 
Just then a messenger came to the Garden House. 

“Raj is very ill: he has fever. Can some medicine go up? 


“ THEY” SAY 135 


Chotu has sent down for it. There is a man ready to take 
itup..: 

_Carunia had felt bound not to send anything that would help 
to keep the men out. But she decided to send quinine and tell 
Authority that she had done so, when the messenger said, “ If a 
hammock were sent, he would come down. His mind is set that 
way. And with hope that ever rose alive from its own ashes, 
the hammock was prepared. But before the quinine could reach 
Raj, much less the more slowly moving bearers, a cyclone swept 
up from the sea, crossed the mountains, whirled through the 
forest and over the plains. The rivers were all in spate; a 
reservoir burst ; bridges went down like twigs on the stream. 
The quinine could not go up. And above the raging waters, Raj 
lay, too ill to move. 

He was in one of the fair-weather fairy lands of the hills. In 
and out among the pink balsam bushes and the tree-ferns by the 
streams, you come upon round pools in the soft earth that tell of 
elephants going to drink. You meet signs of them on every side, 
sometimes signs you do not love, for the elephants think nothing 
of that exquisite decoration of the forest, lycopodium, the wolf- 
footed climbing fern ; they break through the delicate green veil 
and trample it under their careless feet, and pull great wisps of 
it out, and fan themselves with it. Tiger, boar, sambhur—you 
may hear them all, meet them, too, if you urgently wish to do so. 
You may come upon the cleared ring where the forest people tell 
you the elephants dance; you may come upon any wonderful 
woodland thing, for there are waterfalls deep in the pathless 
forest, and reaches of shallow water whose borders are blue with 
bladderwort, and caves that yawn like the mouths of giants, and 
sometimes you come upon a tiny shrine where a few coppers Le, 
telling of those who penetrate these far-away places and wish to 
propitiate the unseen gods of the wilds. That forest in sunshine 
is a place to dream in, a place wherein to forget the grief and the 
hurt of life. 

But it was not fair weather then. It was the kind of weather 
that makes us feel what we are—mere atoms before the passions 
of the universe. And the man hidden there under thundering 
skies never forgot. And as he lay in the weakness of slow con- 
valescence, his prospects must have seemed as dark as the cheer- 
less dark of the wood when the rain and the mist wrapped it in 
gloom, or a great wind roared through the ravine and shook the 
forest, hurling down tall trees with mighty crashes that broke the 
smaller trees within reach and heaped ruin on the shivering little 
things below. 


136 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And then, just then, there was a robbery on the road sixteen 
miles from that place above the river. And of course it was the 
work of Raj and Chotu. The police sent the young trader who 
was robbed to tell Carunia who had known him from a child. 

She listened to his story. There was no doubt that he believed 
the tale he told, and it appeared in the newspapers a few days 
later with that wealth of detail that somehow strikes conviction 
into the mind of the reader. 

“How dost thou know the robbers were Raj and Chotu ? ” 

““T saw Raj once in the train when he was being taken to jail 
a few months ago. And who but Raj would have laughed, and 
given me back five rupees? Besides, the robbers were wearing 
the kind of clothes it is said Raj and Chotu wear. No white 
had they, but khaki shorts, and shirts, and gold-edged turbans. 
Oh, certainly, it was he. And he said, ‘ I am the Red Tiger,’ and 
he called, ‘ Hai, thou Chotu, come hither.’ And they let the 
other carts pass, because they were driven by men of their own 
Casey! 

‘““ How so sure that was the reason why those carts passed ? ”’ 

“Tt is said that they never rob their own. A jewelled woman 
may cross the Plains alone, and not a jewel will be touched ; but 
women of other castes will be robbed.”’ 

“ But thou art of their own caste.”’ 

The lad reflected fora moment. “‘ Even so, they say so. They 
say our caste will be safe.” 

“They say. Who say?” 

He shuffled. “ Oh, ‘ They ’ say,” he said. 

“They ” talk much in India. And they talked to purpose 
through the days that were now at hand. But that robbery was 
a mistake that was never repeated. There was never again a 
robbery from any man or in any house of the caste to which 
the outlaws belonged. All other castes but one (and this omission 
was unobserved, but it happened to be the caste of those who 
were personating Raj and Chotu) suffered badly. There were no 
robberies at the Garden House, though thirteen petty thefts 
within the fortnight after that first meeting by the Lotus Water 
had warned that house what to expect. Now there were none, 
for “‘ They ” knew that no one would believe the Red Tiger would 
rob there or rob anyone going there. Carters, a day’s journey 
distant, told travellers to say they were going to the Garden 
House, and all would be well. They (not the carters who knew 
better, but “ They ’’) pointed to the security the house enjoyed 
as proof of some kind of understanding with Raj. The wildest 
tales were circulated ; ‘‘ They ’’ had a busy time. 


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THE SHADOW OF THE SUBSTANCE 137 


And there was no doubt that there was someone on the roads 
very like Raj. His own child, Delight, was deceived by the 
resemblance, and one evening in the dusk, when out with some 
other children, she broke from them with a cry of joy, ‘“‘ My 
father !*’ But it was not her father. 

And when the water went down, the news of this robbery on 
the road reached Raj. “‘ There is more in this than appears,” he 
said, feeling the sinister menace and shrinking back affrighted. 
And for a long time there was no more talk of coming in. 


CHAPTER IV 
THE SHADOW OF THE SUBSTANCE 


It is curious, in a story which deals with things so material as 
mountains, forests, caves, food—or going deeper, with the more 
elemental passions and emotions which belong to every human 
story—it is curious in such writing to find oneself constantly 
approaching, almost touching, the immaterial, a Shadow, as it 
were, of a Something out of sight, which indeed is the real 
substance of the tale. Sometimes the Shadow is pure like the 
violet shadows of mountain peaks in the evening. Sometimes 
it is dreadful. 

The material of this chapter is the stealthy creeping form of 
an oldish man as he moves with furtive steps, and with eyes, 
like a weasel’s, glancing apprehensively, or, like a chameleon’s, 
looking two ways at once; and he is creeping towards the forest. 

“It is true that she has quite given thee up: she believed 
thou didst set the house on fire. She confessed it to the Great. 
She believes thou didst murder Undu the Rat, in thine anger at 
being drugged. She believes thou art robbing again, thou and 
Chotu, and she has given thee up; she has ceased to pray for 
thee. 

‘““And Per, whom thou trustest, has given thee up. He was 
all the time seeking to get the reward. It is higher now than it 
was. Each new crime pushes it further up, which is to their 
advantage who report the robbing. It will touch two thousand 
rupees in time. And he has a young family.” 

Raj was listening, his face working, his fists clenched. 

“Nay, never would she; is she not my mother? And never 
would he; he is my elder brother.” 

“ She is of the same caste as the Sirkar: consider that. Thou 
callest her mother. Does a mother not care for her son in dis- 
tress? Has she ever sent thee one little anna’s worth of rice ? ”’ 


138 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


‘‘ She sent these rugs.” 

‘ Aye, to get thee over the mountains in the rain to fall into 
a trap. Were the watchers not waiting for thee? Didst thou 
not see them with thine own eyes? ” 

Deep in his puzzled heart, though he had never owned it even 
to Chotu, Raj had not understood why she whom he thought of 
so fondly as mother did not act a mother’s part to a son in 
distress. A few rupees, would it have been a great matter to her 
to give them? This pressure of poverty, did she not know of it ? 
It would have been so much easier to hold out against his temp- 
ters, if only he could have said, “‘ What need is there to rob? 
See, my mother has a care for me.” 

And then the almost capture each time he had tried to come 
in? But no, his soul revolted against it. That could not be. She 
would never have done that. Well, but what of the silence now ? 
What of the absence of one little anna of help? He had never 
asked for it. Ah, but did she not know there was always a sore 
need ? 

How could Raj know that all that was human and woman in 
her was one fierce ache to help him? How could he know that 
she was trusted not to do this thing, or that she believed she was 
so trusted, and that this held her back, so that nothing could 
make her feel it right to doit? Howcould he know? He could 
not know. So he fought this new battle in a grieved and bitter 
silence. He would not discuss with anyone that which hurt so 
desperately. 

“And Per, the man in white, was he true?’”’ It was not 
likely. He was not arich man. He had a wife and children. It 
was known he had no pay for this arduous work of going up and 
down the mountain; he was not working for money. He was 
living on his savings. But did this mean that he had hopes of 
getting something much better ? 

‘“‘ And be it noted he has not come lately. Hast thou seen him 
lately ? Finding it impossible to trap thee and secure the Govern- 
ment reward, he comes no more.’ The weasel-eyed man said 
this in one form or another over and over again. And Per did 
not come. They sent messages down asking him to come. 

And they could not know that the messages were intercepted 
and that the weasel-eyed man had the handling of Per’s guide, 
when he searched, as he daily did, on the mountains for the 
slightest sign of them. 

Then, as India does, Raj cast his lot into the lap. He would 
fix a time; if by that time Per came, he would know that this 
that he had heard was false. If he did not come, it could only 


IN THE WET WOODS 139 


mean that he must not trust him any more. ‘O God,” cried 
Raj in his extremity, ‘“‘O God, hear. Suffer us not to be aban- 
doned. O God, hear.” 

The fixed date passed; Per did not come. And a cloud hung 
over the forest, and the rain never ceased. Had God covered 
Himself with a cloud that his prayer should not pass through ? 


CHAPTER V 
IN THE WET WOODS 


ONE day, as they wandered in the wet woods when the rain had 
abated, chilled in body, chilled in soul, they talked this matter 
out. 

The man of the weasel’s eyes, the deceiver, was one who had 
proved his friendship in many ways. He was even now bringing 
food. It was impossible to doubt him, and Per had not come 
within the set time. Therefore, painful “ therefore,” it was not 
safe to trust him even if he came. 

Presently they heard a low warning voice; it was someone 
talking to another man. The voice was so modulated that they 
knew it was saying, “‘ Disappear. An enemy is near.” Like the 
wild things of the wood they disappeared silently, invisibly, and 
watched. 

It was Per. He was toiling up the hill, still at some distance 
from them, looking up and down and round about for the red 
cap that in other days used to be hung on the bough of a tree, 
sign that somewhere not far away Raj and Chotu waited. What- 
ever the messenger had brought would be put down near that 
tree, and if the outlaws were satisfied they would advance, and 
many a merry talk and many an anxious one too had followed. 
When Per had seen that red cap, he had always waited con- 
fidently, knowing that in a moment there would be the whistle 
of welcome, and one or other of the men would appear, and lead 
him to the cave up the river, or in thick brushwood, or among 
great trees. And then Raj would spread his rug on the floor of 
the cave (a little sign of reverence), and they would kneel on it 
together, and Per would pray for them both, and then they 
would talk, and Per would exhort them and hearten them. Those 
talks were life to the banished men, a comforting in the midst of 
comfortless troubles. But now no red cap hung on the bough, 
there was no low whistle like the whistle of a bird to guide his 
feet. Per wearily climbed on, but never caught a flutter of khaki, 


roy RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


or saw the sad eyes watching him as he turned and went down- 
hill. 

Next morning, weary, perplexed, but undaunted, he came to 
the Garden House. 

“T felt as if they were near, but I never saw them. Only this 
I know, Raj never broke his promise. He will not rob again.” 

But the country was filling with a very different tale. Another 
dacoity had been committed, a curious mixture of real robbery 
and a Raj-like joke. ‘‘ Oh for proof evident to all that he is 
clear,” Carunia said to Per, for there was no proof of his in- 
tegrity (the alibi being forbidden) that the world would recognise. 
And people who did not know the men or their friends or anything 
that could be said on the other side, declared that there was no 
doubt—Raj had broken out again, and some said, who could 
wonder? For the temptation upon him now that others had 
robbed in his name, was so tremendous, and man at his strongest 
is so weak, that what, save only the power of God, could hold 
him up for an hour? So prayer rose for him night and day ; 
like a fountain? No, the word is too pretty, too tame—rose like 
lava from burning deeps. ‘‘O Thou that hearest prayer, unto 
Thee shall all flesh come.” 


CHAPTER VI 
TORCHES IN THE SADHU’S CAVE 


AND now, thinking themselves forsaken, Raj and Chotu went to 
the sadhu’s cave, a mile or so above the valley where the river 
flows over the coloured rock. A clinging grey mist hung over 
the wet woods, and. they were lonely and quiet. No birds sang 
among the dripping branches; only the shouts of cataracts 
calling to one another and the sullen roar of the river filled the 
air, and to the grieved and downcast heart the thundering of 
great waters is threatening, not jubilant. The roof and walls of 
the cave oozed with moisture ; looking in, the men saw only a 
yawning gloom. The ground underfoot was sodden. 

It was a strange cave, even when seen in sunshine; dark 
influences seemed to haunt it. A mass of rock, a hundred feet 
long and very wide and thick, had been projected upon huge 
boulders that stood embedded in the bank that fell to the river. 
These rocks divided it roughly into four caverns or rooms, 
through one of which unlighted water found its way out of some 
deep recess and filled the cavern with a chill clammy air. The 
rocks were clammy. 


TORCHES IN THE SADHUWS CAVE I4I 


For purposes of safety the cave was perfect ; two men could 
elude scores; but it had not always been the refuge of outlaws, 
a sadhu had lived there. “‘ He who holds his hands up,” the 
people had called him, impressed by the sight of him sitting on 
his stone with his hands held up in prayer, and many pilgrims 
had found their way to him from the temple below. Marut, 
the herb doctor, had once led a party to see him, for Marut was 
ever a seeker after wisdom, and he had a hope that the sadhu, 
knowing how far the people had travelled, would open his lips 
and feed them. But he could not be sure, for some sadhus are 
too holy to speak at all. To his humble question the sadhu 
answered nothing for a long time, while Marut waited, his grave 
expectant eyes fixed earnestly upon the saint’s impassive face. 
At last the holy man opened his mouth and said : 

“ How can I who came here for my own soul’s good have any- 
thing to give to thee? I have nothing.” And humbly and 
reverently Marut led his party down. 

Now the sadhu had gone, no one knew whither. And the 
cave was empty when Raj and Chotu went there, before the end 
of the rains. 

There was no pleasant view from the cave; a black rock 
faced it, and against the rock grew a fantastic mass of twisted 
leafless stems. 

Near the sadhu’s stone in this dismal cave there were three 
cooking-stones, the roof overhead was blackened with the smoke 
of many fires. Kaj pulled a flat stone out and set it near the 
cooking-stones, and on it Chotu ground any condiment they had 
for those uncertain meals. How food ever reached that distant 
place it is difficult to understand. They were many miles from 
the Plains. At no time could more than three or four days’ rice 
be carried up, to carry more would have been too noticeable. 
And yet it was taken there and to still less accessible places in 
those boundless mountain forests. 

On a day of special sadness and despondency, Raj sat on the 
sadhu’s stone in a silence which Chotu, who was cooking beside 
him, but did not care to disturb. And as Raj sat in that deep 
silence, memory lighted her torches one by one, and unseen hands 
carried them along the roads below. He was down there now, 
down in the sticky heat of the Plains, in the midst of the carou sing 
and the dare-devilry of old days. The flaring torches shc wed 
them. He looked and looked. 

He saw a table set out on the road at night. He saw the faces 
of the men gathered round it, saw the candle blown about in 
the soft puffs of wind, and the drink and the cards on the table, 


142 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


He saw a cart come up, felt the delicious joke bubbling within 
him, heard the laugh that followed ; shook with laughter there, 
as he sat on the cold stone. 

Now the brown roots of the banyan trees swept the ground, 
and he and his men were among them. A cart was rumbling 
along. Ah, but the woman had cried out in sorrow, and he was 
ashamed. How good it was to remember that she was not hurt, 
but helped. He was glad he had ever done anything good. But 
there were other carts and other people, he saw them too and the 
wild furore of the attack, the excitement of the mad race for 
safety, that panting run that sent the blood thumping in the ears. 

And the torches showed the roads, the very flowers that 
bordered them; there was one that for miles was fringed by 
a plant that had flame-coloured balls threaded on its stem like 
beads. And sometimes the road ran between water, where lotus 
grew in thousands, and so close together that it was as though 
he looked at water-meadows thick with flowers that stood up 
straight among their large flat leaves like roses—for often they 
were rose-coloured—or like white queens that showed their 
hearts of gold. And their scent was like nothing else on earth. 
Ah, but he had spoiled the peace of those water-meadows. 

And there was the road of the Split Rock. One of his caves 
was just above it. He used to put the jewels he took from the 
women in the fissure of the rock. There they would le all day, 
within a hundred feet of the people on the road, but safe as if 
buried in the earth. Then, at night, two of the band would go 
and retrieve them and carry them up to the cave, and the loot 
would be divided round the camp-fire. Then down he would go 
with his share, and make the heart of many a poor man glad. 
Oh, the jolly weddings he had carried through! How the poor 
blessed him! And yet there was no joy in the thought. The 
blessing was stained. 

And he saw the Mothers’ Shrine near the Split Rock. He saw 
scores of babies’ cradles piled up on the stones and swung from 
the branches of the banyan tree in mute appeal to the merciful 
goddess of mothers to send little children to them. He saw the 
smooth oiled stone that was her symbol hung with coloured glass 
bangles (for as she was a woman god, would she not want some 
bangles ?) He saw the oleander wreaths, and the faint sweet 
smell rose up to him, and he was swiftly caught away and was 
standing under another tree and his mother was with him, and 
she had a pink wreath in her hands, and his were full of those 
same pink flowers. How clear it all was—that whiteness that 
had first meant God to him, that pinkness so soft, so sweet—and 


TORCHES IN THE SADHU’S CAVE 143 


his mother. But the tinkle of a bell recalled him. He saw the 
bell, it was fastened on the bough of a tree near a poor little 
empty cradle that was tied to it by a wire. And now the old 
priestess was drifting slowly out from among the shadows of the 
grey rocks behind the tree. She it was who tended the goddess 
of the mothers and kept the hollow in the stone by the roadside 
filled with ashes, so that wayfarers could stop and rub the sacred 
ashes on their foreheads. How often he had rubbed those ashes 
on his forehead, there by the Mothers’ Shrine ! 

He had rubbed them on that day when he tried to play that 
practical joke on Sakuni. The Split Rock and Sakuni, how the 
one called to the other, what a pity it was that the women could 
not find him! If only he had come hot-foot, and been taken in, 
or better still bought off, what food for mirth it would have been 
for the countryside which hated him for his himsa! The torch 
burned red just then, red with a dangerous flaring-up of wrath. 
How easy to shoot that vile Sakuni even now! But no, he had 
promised ; he must not take revenge. 

And the torches moved on: he was watching two strings of 
rice carts as they passed; his men were keen to loot, he was 
holding them back by a word. 

“Nay, touch them not” (this was the first string of carts). 
“ Do they not belong to the charitable landowner? He is kind 
to the poor. Let them pass.” 

And the second? As that second string passed, he saw himself 
draw his men closer round him. “‘ Not a sack of any one o‘ those 
carts shall be touched. Are they not for the children’s food ? ”’ 

And again he was glad as he looked: he was in the Vilage of 
the Herons; the brothers were urging something: “ Wait by 
that gully, it will be easy to waylay him ; what a chance the gods 
have given to thee, O Captain, for he is very rich.” But they 
were talking of that same man whose carts he had let pass on the 
road. 

“ Never,” he had said, turning from them, “he is excellent, 
a virtuous man. Not for gold will I touch him. We are not out 
against such ashe. Touch him not, I command you.” And they 
had slunk off like dogs with their tails between their legs. And 
he had thrilled with the sense of power to forbid and command. 

Yes, those were good days, lived out in the open; risky, of 
course, but alive. A man’s life, for good or ill. But it was ill. 
His conscience told him that. What right had he to touch other 
men’s goods ? Many a day was wholly bad. It was all bad as he 
looked back. No good had come of it, but very much sorrow. 

How clearly those torches showed everything at the Split 


144 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Rock! He could see the broad yellow-ochre and black lines on 
the northern face of the wall of the cleft, the little ferns and 
trailing creepers under the sheltering western base, the elfin 
garden of pink and lilac cups and bells, the bush with its green 
berries, half smothered in the vine that climbed it; and he saw 
the cactus, too, that caught at his men as they ran up the hill. 

What a chaos of rocks there was behind, as if a giant had 
played ball there; one of the balls hung poised to fall, and yet 
never did ; and beyond, it was as if the giant’s head turned to 
stone looked down at them ; and from that head they could see 
miles of banyan-bordered road winding calmly on. And across 
the road there were rice fields, and little upstanding rocks like 
islands in a sea of green; and beyond them the Finger Crags 
whose edges are like the fingers of a man’s hand. 

What a time they had in that wild country above the road! 
He could smell the lemon grass even now and the aromatic 
scents of the crushed herbs they trod on, as they climbed the 
tumbled crags. | 

Oh, to be free, to walk those roads a free, honest man! But 
that could never be. Any hope that it could ever be had perished. 
If Carunia distrusted him, who would ever believe in him? No 
sentence would be long enough for him now. Come in? How 
could he ? Then what was there left to look forward to but misery 
upon misery? ‘“‘ And if only thou wouldst give way and be as 
they say thou art, there would at least be a sporting chance——”’ 
But the sentence was not finished. ‘“‘ Hai, Chotu, let us sing,” 
and seizing his book with vigorous hands, Raj flung back his 
head and sang with a mighty voice to drown the voices about him 
and to blow out the torches. 


PART VII 


Apollyon: Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am 
an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, and people ; I am come 
out on purpose to withstand thee. 

Christian : Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King’s highway, 
the way of holiness, therefore take heed to yourself. 

Apollyon: Then Apoliyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the 
way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter, prepare thyself to die ; for 
I swear by my infernal den thou shalt go no further; here will I spill 
thy soul. 

And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast, but Christian had a 
shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of 


that. 
JOHN BUNYAN, 
1628-1692. 


“IT know that during that long and vacking march of thirty-six hours 
over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of S. Georgia it seemed to me often 
that we were four, not three. I said nothing to my companions on the point, 
but afterwards Worsley said to me, ‘ Boss, I had a curious feeling on the 
march that there was another person with us.’ Crean confessed to the same 
idea. One feels ‘ the dearth of human words, the roughness of mortal speech,’ 
in trying to describe things intangible, but a vecord of our journeys would be 
incomplete without a reference to a subject very near to our hearts.” 


SHACKLETON. 


CHAPTER I 
ANOTHER KIND OF LIGHT 


EANWHILE, constantly anxious and seeking for news that 

would give ground for Per’s confident, “‘ Nay, he is not 

doing these things. Do I not know him ?”’ Carunia had written 
another letter and given it to Dura from the far country, for Dura 
thought that he could find the two men though Per had failed. 
She implored them to come in, every month they stayed out 
made it harder for them, for it gave the opportunity to pile up 
fresh crimes against them. In what other direction did any hope 
lie? What if surrender would lead to the worst that man could do? 
(For she recognised the impossibility of their proving an alibi. 
They would not wreck their friends.) Even so, God would stand 
by them; whatever befell them, inward joy would be given to 
them, and fortitude beyond their dreams. There was no risk 
in such a pledge, for if only they rose to this supreme act of faith, 


K 145 


146 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


the very abandon of their committal would be like the swimmer’s 
faith that proves the upbearing powers beneath. ‘“‘ Yea, he shall 
be holden up, for God is able to make him stand.” “Satan hath 
desired to have thee, that he may sift thee as wheat ; but I have 
prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not.” These and a hundred 
other Scriptures answered all questions, and made it appear but 
a little thing thus to pledge the Lord our God. 

So Dura went up with the letter, and disappeared into a blanket 
of cloud, and searched up and down the ravines, but in vain. 
For by means of all manner of false messages sent by the wily 
weasel, he was continually headed off from the valley of the 
coloured rocks which led up to the desolate cave, and he returned 
with the letter, which he dared entrust to no one, undelivered. 

Then certain spies and the weasel worked together—a deadly 
combine, for the weasel was in Raj’s confidence—and the spies 
went up in the form of friends, and they told Raj what the weasel 
had told him, that even Carunia had utterly forsaken him, and 
was helping the Sirkar to entrap him. He must not wonder at 
that. Was she not of their caste ? Who does not know that after 
all caste counts for most? Each time he had followed her advice 
he had all but fallen into the hands of the police. And what 
help had she given him ?—always the test question. And they 
told again that poisonous half-truth about her letter to Authority. 
Of the letter that followed when the truth emerged, he was told 
nothing. And Raj, stabbed in a tender place, was silent. But 
still he held to his faith and would not believe them. “ No, it 
is a lie, did she not come to me in the hospital? She will never 
go back on me,” he said ; though by some strange twist of mental 
processes his trust in Per had perished, this held firm. But as the 
days passed and no message came from her, he was driven to 
accept the cruel word, ‘‘ She has forsaken thee.’ Beyond that 
he would not go. Nothing could compel him to believe she had 
tried to betray him. It was sad enough as it was; for he knew 
her so little that it did not cross his mind that, even did she 
believe him to have fallen, she would still go on loving him and 
watching for his recovery. He thought she would give him up, 
and think he had deceived her all along. 

And now, in the depths of his depression, he did what he had 
never done before. He pushed his song-books aside ; and the 
walls of the cave closed round him, and the walls were made of 
despair. ‘‘ There is no one to sift and see if I be grain or if I 
be husk ’’—that was his one thought then. The foundations of 
his confidence were undermined: Never, never had he imagined 
that Carunia would desert him. 


ANOTHER KIND OF LIGHT 147 


For a while it was thus; there was no human comforter ; 
and the comforts of heaven seemed very far from this near and 
difficult life. 

When the weather cleared they went down to the Plains, and 
that always meant risk of trouble. Trouble met them there, for 
they were more than foolish and gave the police excellent reason 
for charging them with robbery. When their finances ran low, 
their custom was to go to the house of a friend and ask for help, 
but one day they yielded so far as to stop a cart full of jewelled 
women, and they said, “‘ We are Raj and Chotu, and we are in 
need,” “ not demanding,” as the women declared afterwards in 
telling the tale, “ but asking.”” Then as they stood chatting on 
the roadside by the cart, they discovered that its owner, whose 
women had already given them some jewels, had once shown 
kindness to Raj when first he was arrested. And upon recognizing 
him, Raj hurriedly thrust back the jewels given. ‘“ Take them 
back,” he insisted. “ That one kindness is enough.” 

In spite of the assertions of the family concerned, this story 
naturally grew into something more disreputable, and buttressed 
the belief that they were robbing on the roads. And they re- 
turned disconsolate to their cave. 

Then the rain fell again and Raj sat on the sadhu’s stone and 
fought his secret battle ; and Chotu squatted near by their one 
comfort, the fire, and tried to cook tempting meals, turning the 
little tied-up bundles inside out to find any specially nice thing 
tucked in by some kindly woman. At last for Raj, a desperate 
man and a broken-hearted, a light shone, a low voice spoke. 
Chotu by the fire neither saw nor heard. The air shook with 
the sound of the river, the great sound that carries a sense of 
menace as it rolls through the hours of a dark gloomy day; the 
forest shuddered as it listened to that thunder. No bird sang. 
But for Raj there was a singing and a light. That light was not 
like the flare of the torches: it was another kind of light, very 
clear and quiet, and it showed a calm water two thousand feet 
below. It was the Lotus Water in sunset. He saw a long 
reach of rough short grass, tasted of food and drink, heard the 
word that told him of the Body broken for him, the Blood 
‘shed. 

He got up, he had to bend his head or it would have struck the 
roof, but he stood, and squared his shoulders and spoke as if 
Chotu had been following his thoughts. ‘‘ Even though she 
believes we have fallen, let us not sin,” he said. ‘‘ We have washed 
our feet, shall we walk again in the mud?” It was the final 
decision, and he never looked back on it. The Hindu who had 


148 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


been his tempter could do nothing with him. “ It is not so easy 
to ruin him with whom the pressure of Christ’s hand still lingers 
in the palm.” 


CHAPTER II 
LITTLE STORIES OF COMFORT 


WHEN the first fight with a fierce temptation had to be fought and 
won, the sweetness of the place where Raj and Chotu stayed 
joined forces with the good and loving powers. No fury of waters 
had urged Raj to vehemence; Nature at her friendliest had led 
him into peace. And flowers grew in that valley, great violet 
spikes, and little lilac clusters, and many perfumed herbs, and 
they filled the pleasant air with fragrance. There was space 
there, and freedom, and cheerful colours and gentle sounds. 
How different this melancholy cave with its damp and its dark- 
ness and its crushing low roof! Not a flower here, not a colour 
save the wet dark green overhead, and even that one would 
hardly see through the twilight of the rains. And chiefly, what 
a contrast was this ceaseless river roar to the whispering singing 
music of the stream on the rosy rocks! 

But all was well. From strength to strength we are led as we 
are able to bear it, for the love of our God is brave. 

And also kind; it takes everything into account. When Raj 
had gone up to the valley, he had only a little book of the Psalms. 
So another book was opened, and at a coloured picture; for 
though Raj had been a robber captain, he had the heart of a 
young child. But now Raj had books, a Testament with many 
underlined verses, a lyric book, and at least one hymn-book, for 
he was a lover of songs.. He had also the Book of Proverbs, 
given by the grey-headed Christian whose flesh quaked as he 
laid his hands on the two bowed heads and prayed that Raj and 
Chotu might be kept from sin; and he had the Pilgrim’s Progress 
with its plain vigorous speech. And he had proved his God, 
as he had not had time to do when that first blast of temptation 
shook him with its sudden onslaught. Now let the test be keener ; 
God was making a man. All the forces of His world worked 
with their Creator ; and so was drained from Raj the weakness 
of leaning upon man or woman. 

Meanwhile, down in the Plains, tales of new iniquities harrowed 
the hearts that still held to their hope, even to the word spoken 
at the beginning, “‘ Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; 
when I fall, I shall arise ; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall 


LITTLE STORIES OF COMFORT 149 


be a light unto me.”’ And another word became spirit and life : 
“Let them not say in their hearts, Ah, so we would have it: 
let them not say, We have swallowed him up.’ Everywhere, 
during those days, people were talking of him. For the robberies 
were now in full flood, and kept his name before men’s minds. 
In the trains and motors and on the roads, anyone whose ears 
were open heard snatches of such talk. 

One afternoon an old man came to the Garden House. His 
face crinkled and wrinkled into new lines of pleased reminiscence 
as he discoursed to a group of younger men who chanced to be 
gathering there that day. And Carunia, wondering what the 
happy-sounding story was about, drew nearer and listened. 

“ Yes, I saw him,” she heard old Wrinkles remark calmly, as 
if to see Raj was as simple a thing as breathing. The little com- 
pany gasped with joyful astonishment and anticipation. 

“ Him verily ? ” 

“Yea, verily,” said the old man. “ He was standing near a 
bush of wild guava, and I talked to him for a while. He pointed 
to the guava bush and said, ‘O my father, the word is true. If 
we could live on those berries, we should be content.’ And we 
had much happy talk together.” 

It was only a little story of comfort, but it was comforting. 

One day it was some woodmen : 

“ Ay, it was wonderful to see. They were sitting at food among 
the trees near the charcoal-burners, and they had only plain rice 
with tamarind juice, very dull fare, Said one of the charcoal- 
burners, ‘No curry? no meat curry?’ for he knew that Raj 
liked meat curries and that there were plenty of goats about; 
and Raj laughed and said that no one had given him a goat that 
day, and no game had fallen to his gun. And he told of his 
promise never to rob again. And then he said, ‘ This tamarind 
juice is enough. O brother, we do not feel any lack.’ ”’ 

And one day it was a little boy who had heard terrifying tales 
of Raj’s doings, and so was greatly frightened when Raj suddenly 
appeared. The place was lonely, near the edge of the forest, 
and the poor child cried out in his fear. Raj was grieved to think 
the child was frightened of him, and he put his arms round him 
and soothed him, “ and he took a handkerchief from his pocket,” 
said the boy, “ for he wore an old khaki coat with pockets ; and 
he wiped away my tears; gently he wiped them; and he said, 
“I wish very much that I had something to give thee, but I 
have nothing, little brother; I have nothing.’ ”’ 


150 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER II 
IT IS AN ORDER 


UNWIND the wire from a violin string and as you pull it comes, 
as it seems, endlessly, uncurling like a hair; and you see the 
catgut vibrate like a living thing within that delicate coil. Pull 
the fine-drawn trouble of this story and still it comes, and at 
the heart of it there is always something tense and alive. 

And now each reported crime lent a new and a steady strength 
to the hand that pulled the wire. 

The sun was beating down on a village under the hills when 
Sakuni, he of the joke that did not come off, crossed the plain, 
with never a glance at its peaceful view of lake and encircling 
mountains, and found his way to the house of one of the spies 
engaged to track Raj. He was immediately admitted. The 
spy pulled a cane cot out into the shade of a verandah, and his 
visitor sat down. 

“‘ T cannot sleep till the villain is chopped up,’’ remarked Sakuni 
—he used the verb for chopping up butcher’s meat—and he dis- 
cussed Raj viciously for a while, for Raj’s most provoking avoid- 
ance of a carefully baited snare had infuriated him. Raj was 
vermin. The talk ended thus: 

“When his capture is accomplished, one leg must be shot 
through the knee, and the tendons of the other ankle must be 
cut. Orif shooting cannot be, then the sinews under the knee 
must be cut; such injuries could easily be made to appear 
accidental ; there will be a scuffle: it can happen in the scuffle. 
Then he will limp for the rest of his days, so,” and Sakuni held 
out his hands and waggled them suggestively. ‘‘ He will be a 
limping cripple.” 

The words startled a man who happened to be in the house 
at the time and who was forgotten as the voices rose in discussion 
and opprobrium. He, like most other men, had heard that this 
was to be done if possible ; it was one of those many things which 
everyone knew, but which no one could say how he knew. Now 
this man had definitely heard it put into the words of an order: 
“It is an order: an order,” the spy had murmured as a kind of 
accompaniment to the conversation. Raj, the athlete, whose 
chief joy from his childhood had been in feats of strength and 
endurance, Raj, who though partly crippled now had yet re- 
covered so marvellously from the last brutal himsa that he could 
run again—kKaj was to be a limping cripple for life. The training 


INSTEAD OF THE BOILING—ASHES 151 


of the man who listened had not been of the kind tending towards 
super-refinement, but this shocked him. He had wished that 
Raj would come in, till, after the false charges began, he had 
realised that to come in would add to the troubles his people were 
suffering. ‘“ For must not the band be found ? ’? Now he realised, 
as he had not before, the cause of Raj’s deep distrust of justice. 
“‘ T have tasted of the ways of justice, I have lost faith in justice,” 
Raj had openly said. Was it strange that he had said so ? 

This man was not the only one whose soul revolted against 
what was intended: “ Shoot him like a dog”’; it had been said 
in the presence of Fides, a gallant-hearted Government servant 
who, being assured of Raj’s honourable dealing, did not fear to 
speak out even in the official circles where he moved; he paid 
heavily for his championship ; but there was no way of proving 
the origin of even one of the annoyances that followed him from 
that time on for many months. How prove who tampered with 
his letters, and intercepted them if they happened to be from any 
place likely to be favourable to Raj? How prove anything ? 
Fides, like the man who heard the giving of that tendon-cutting 
order, knew more than he could prove. 

It has been said and will be said again that when there is himsa 
it is due to the excitement of the moment. ‘ Their blood was 
up.” But this was not always true. Was it so strange then that 
the assurance of the authorities that nothing of the kind should 
happen, and that for their own sake all concerned would be care- 
ful, fell on deaf ears? The distant Great believed that this himsa 
talk was a mere excuse Raj made for staying out. But then they 
had never heard any talk about chopping up a live man as though 
he were butcher’s meat. 


CHAPTER IV 
INSTEAD OF THE BOILING—ASHES 


ABOVE the straggling streets of the town where the false friend 
lived who betrayed Raj, there is a mountain sheathed in forest. 
Deep ravines are carved between the spurs of the mountain, and 
there are many hidden nooks, each with its tumbling water and 
fresh and delicate beauty. Life, various and lovely, is every- 
where. Among the gorges on that mountain, tree-ferns grow in 
dense masses, and by its streams you may see the spoor of many 
animals. It isa place to dream in, a green coolness on the hottest 
day. And as you wander there, the wood opens on a little grassy 
world, full of flowers and the singing of birds, and a sambhur may 


152 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


start up almost from under your feet ; you will hear his hoofs 
beat on the hard ground before you have realised who he is, and 
as you hold your breath to listen, suddenly out of the silence of 
the encompassing forest you will hear the cries of a myriad 
startled things, and above them all the “‘ Whoo, Whoo, Whoo” 
of the great black grey-capped monkey whose ancestors were 
taken with the peacocks to King Solomon’s Court. 

But at night the forest can be awful. The snaky forms of the 
entada hang from huge trees, creepers of enormous girth and 
tortuous form which, half seen in the dark, can appear threat- 
ening, malevolent. There are stealthy noises then, and rustlings, 
and whispers. You may hear what at night, if you happen to be 
out in the wood, can be unpleasant, a tiger’s growl. 

Raj and Chotu never both slept at the same time. One would 
watch, sitting by the carefully shielded fire, with his gun across 
his knees, while the other slept ; and through those long vigils 
Raj thought much, and his thoughts were very sorrowful, for the 
bitterness of the hunted was his in full measure. At such times 
the influence of the darkness outside the little circle of fire- 
light, the strange sounds and movements affected him profoundly, 
and he would find himself brooding over his wrongs again—the 
broken oath, the first himsa, the wrecked home, Seetha’s piteous 
death. In his language the word for the boiling up of emotions 
brings before the mind a pot set on the fire, a bubbling of the 
boiling liquid, an overflowing as it runs down the side of the pot 
into the fire. Well within reach of him was his false friend, all 
but within hand’s grasp, as his idiom put it. He saw the little 
side-room where he had slept after the feast ; he lived through 
those lurid hours again. Raj was not beyond the assault of 
strong temptation. He was savagely tempted. 

“ But I cannot understand it,” he said to Gir one day, after 
such a watch by the fire—for the faithful Gir had found him out, 
and had come to talk with him—“I feel the mighty urging, I 
hear the very words, ‘ Rise up and do it, Rise up and do it’; 
my hand is on my gun: and yet I do not want to rise up and 
do it.”’ 

“He deserves to be punished,” said Gir, “ but it is well that 
thou punish him not. His fears are his punishment. He keeps 
indoors, not yet believing thou wilt not attack him, and he does 
not trust his gun alone. He is going to get a revolver.” They 
discussed the poor wretch awhile thus—“ If it were not for that 
which happened by the Lotus Water, and in the hospital ”— 
and Raj told that tale again—“ and if it were not for the teach- 
ing of this book ’’—and he held out a weather-worn Testament— 


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THE HOLLOW AMONG THE YOUNG PALMS 153 


“ should I have been for five hours within reach of him without 
punishing him ? But now instead of the boiling I find ashes.”’ 
And Gir wondered. 


CHAPTER V 
THE HOLLOW AMONG THE YOUNG PALMS 


AND now, chased from the northern valley, he and Chotu travelled 
over the southern hills, seeking work and finding it sometimes ; 
but more often they were just hapless fugitives flying from the 
face of the Law that was meant to defend such as they had once 
been and would be again, if only they might. Law, the strong 
friend, when turned to be an enemy, is terrible; how terrible 
must be left to the imagination of one who can put himself in the 
place of those two men. They could hardly ever rest secure, 
except when they were in the heart of some untrodden forest. 
They shared their food with a sadhu, one day, pitying his evident 
weariness. They found a week later that he was a spy; he led 
the police to their cave. Except in their far retreats they were 
never off guard, what they took to be the sparkle of a dew- 
drop might be the gleam of the muzzle of a rifle held low among 
the leaves, 

But the tender mercies of the Lord are over all His works: 
this word stands: in his need Raj was granted the ministry of 
friends. And now Marut, the herb doctor, was with him, in a 
hollow place, set round with young palms, where one might be 
for a long time without any knowing, and the school-fellows 
embraced in the warm Eastern way, and Kaj told the story of 
that hour by the Lotus Water. 

“And all has become new to me,” he said, and the herb- 
doctor creased his forehead and tapped his polished shaven head 
in his effort to follow this strange talk. ‘‘ The desires I used to 
have within me do not spring up now. I am myself bewildered 
by this, it is as if they were dead.”” And Marut thought of the 
night just before the evening of that talk by the Lotus Water, 
when Raj had said to him about his false friend, ‘‘ Watch; 
within a week thou wilt hear he hast paid for his treachery.’ 
What accounted for the change? They spoke of that man then, 
and Raj said, “‘ But afterwards I had no heart to move against 
him, and at last I could not help forgiving him; for I had been 
forgiven.” 

The careful in such matters will notice how, though Raj quoted 
the Lord’s Prayer when he first spoke of forgiving his enemies, 


154 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


he always explained his being able to forgive, not by fears of 
being unforgiven if he did not forgive, but by the mercy of sins 
forgiven. And he went on to explain his simple creed to Marut, 
who was exceedingly bewildered, and chiefly by its simplicity. 

For Marut was a thinker. He could have talked for hours on 
most complex things: whirlpools into which souls were sucked, 
and how and why; and the only Self, with which, when the 
body falls away, the enlightened and emancipated become identi- 
fied; and a form of “ meditation without subject or object, 
whose consummation is when thought exists without an object, 
and is not an object to itself.” 

He could have discoursed on killing that is not killing: “ He 
whose intellect is not confused, even though he should kill, kills 
not’’; for everything after all is mere illusion. Therefore had 
Raj killed his foes, as he may once have intended to do—but no 
thought should be pressed too far. Marut could have argued 
about ropes of sand, and reflections of moons in different vessels 
of water, and many several streams proceeding from one fountain, 
and many different roads leading to one city. And yet here he 
was baffled by this simple unfathomable thing, that change of 
heart that makes a man forgive his enemies. 

He begged Raj to explain further, but Raj was never eloquent. 
He told of the Lotus Water in the sunset, of bread and tea, of a 
story that he could not forget, and he told Marut the story of 
the three crosses, “‘and on the middle cross was the Innocent 
One between two robbers.”’ Marut listened affectionately, but it 
did not occur to him that it bore upon his own life. It was only 
“a new doctrine.”” And he opened an argument to which Raj 
also listened affectionately, but which he did not in the least 
understand, for he had never been philosophical like Marut. At 
last he said in his blundering way, ‘‘ This that thou sayest is fog 
tome; all I know is that the things I used to do, now I do not 
desire to do: something has happened to me that has changed 
my desires.” 

And Marut had to be content with that. 

‘“ But I was as a frog in a lotus flower,’’ Marut said a year or 
so afterwards. ‘‘ The bee perceives the honey; I was not a bee, 
I was a frog.’”” And when he held in his hands the little worn 
leather-covered Bible that Raj had kept under his pillow in the 
jail, and found written on one of its pages these words in Raj’s 
\ writing, ““O Lord, O King, redeem me,” he knew that it was 
not a question of a doctrine, but of a person: “ It is I.” 

“ At what date was this talk ? ’” asked Carunia of Marut when 
he told his tale. But Marut, who could remember every twist 





AN EAR OPEN TO US 155 


and turn of his verbal wrestle with Raj, was vague about the 
date, till at last, with his two fingers pressed on his forehead to 
assist its recovery, he exclaimed, ‘‘ It was on the evening of the 
day that the brave young girl was robbed of her jewels by the 
cutting of her ears.’ And that minute corroboration of some- 
thing heard otherwise was a nugget of gold. 

For on that day the servants had brought the market talk to 
the Garden House. “Say it was the Red Tiger’s doing,” said 
they. 

“‘T will not say it,’’ said the girl. 

“ But it was his, say so,” said they again. 

“T will say that the man who snatched at my ears and cut 
them said he was Red Tiger, but I will not say that he was the 
Red Tiger, for I do not know,” was the girl’s reply, and her 
courage was the admiration of the market. 

Followed the back and forward chatter of the crowd : 

“ Tt is not his doing.” 

AE ab 

“He is robbing: They say so. Their records are full of his 
crimes.” 

“He may be robbing. But when did the Red Tiger cut a 
woman ’s ears ? ”’ 

“Thou art right. There is not the smell of him in this.”’ The 
story ended in the girl’s going to the hospital where her ears 
were sewn up. And as this detail. was being discussed, a by- 
stander said quietly, ‘“‘ This was not the Red Tiger’s work. He 
would not do such a thing, and on that day he was nowhere near 
the road.” 

“Where was he then ? ” the servants had asked quickly. And 
the place named was the Hollow of the Young Palms. 


CHAPTER VI 
«AN EAR OPEN TO US” 


MarvuT had much to lose. He was well-off, and engaged to a 
rich girl. Among his possessions was a little shrine; many and 
close ties bound him to his own religion. He was drawn by what 
Raj had said about the change in his desires, but, “‘ I will never 
forsake my own for another,” he said to himself, and he pushed 
the thought away. 

Still, he was baffled: and the most baffling thing was Raj’s 
peace in times of shortage. Marut knew there were such times. 
Sometimes it was impossible to get food up. This was inevitable. 


156 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


In the curious conditions then prevailing it was right. And yet 
it was pitiful too. Raj moved from British India, crossing the 
mountains where he could, and under difficulties which again 
were right, and had to be—what a tangle it all was—and these 
excursions could not always be foretold, or the messenger was 
intercepted, and food ran short. 

The messenger at this time was Druti, the lad who had been 
one of Raj’s band, and who had insisted upon joining him again 
so that he might bring up provisions. A warrant of arrest had 
been served upon Druti which he had easily evaded tillnow. He 
had forsaken his bad ways, because Raj told him they were 
wrong, and he loved him enough to obey him ; but of course the 
warrant still held ; and every time he went down for food he was 
all but walking into jail. For it was known to the police that he 
was with Raj and Chotu at that time ; and in the faked dacoities 
of the period, and long after he had left the men, he always 
figured ; “he of the paralysed arm,” he was called, for one arm 
was useless. 

His end was tragic. Raj had told him to go home and marry, 
and had given him what he could of his own little store, and the 
boy had gone. After Raj’s death he came back to the British 
side of the hills to see a relative, and the police were informed 
and proceeded to arrest him. Thereupon—this was the first tale 
sent running through the town—he ended his life with his prun- 
ing-hook, fearing himsa; the second said that he was about to 
escape when he was felled by the butt-end of a gun, and that the 
pruning-hook was used to make it appear suicide. Whichever 
tale was true, Druti was buried at once. There is no stupid 
delay about such matters in India. | 

But faithful as the boy was, food often ran short. ‘‘ And even 
so, we are learning to be in peace,’”’ Raj had said quietly, and 
Marut was staggered at this; for only an ascetic learns this 
lesson, and Raj was no ascetic, but a jovial, hearty, ordinary 
man; more sinew than soul, Marut would have said if he had 
been pressed to describe him. 

Then Raj had told of amazing things, of a cry that reached a 
living ear, “‘ I speak, God listens. He bends down His ear and 
listens.” 

And he had told, but not in detail, for not even to Marut would 
he give away another’s secret, of help that had spoken to him 
of a Father’s care on a day of distress when both he and Chotu 
were tempted to end their lives because of the heaping up of 
crimes against them, and because of their hunger. But Raj had 
cried, and in that moment of their extremity a message had been 


AN EAR OPEN TO US 157 


sent to him: “ At such and such a house is one who trusts thee 
and will help thee.’’ And carefully in the moonless half of the 
night, he and Chotu had gone to that house and found every 
luxury awaiting them, an oil-bath, that soaking comfort which 
renews the dried-up skin ; and rich cakes made with butter and 
honey ; for they were thin and worn, and their host had any 
number of willing women at his command. 

They had been nourished there for several days; and when 
they left, servants had been sent to carry basket loads of food 
to their cave ; so that for a week or two they had no lack. 

There were hundreds of rich men in the hundreds of towns and 
villages on both sides of the mountains. It may be that the rich 
man ran little risk ; but again, any moment he might have been 
in trouble. Another who did the same had to pay several hun- 
dred rupees blackmail to escape a charge of harbouring the 
outlaws. 

“Yes, verily our Father has an ear open unto us,’ Raj had 
said to Marut, and he had tried to show him the sap of the thing, 
as he would have put it, though the sap of things is not easily 
shown. But he did make one thing plain: prayer was not a 
beating of the air with words, as they had thought from the far 
back beginning. For example, that forty thousand times repeti- 
tion of a name was vanity. Prayer was a speaking into an ear 
that was open to listen, bent down to listen. “It is all here,”’ 
Raj had said, touching his book. ‘ This is a vital book.” 

Vital indeed is that book to the man to whom life is more than 
a painted show, thrice vital to Raj in his desperate circumstances. 
The blossom of the wicked does not always or at once go up as 
dust. The men that justify the wicked for reward and take away 
the righteousness of the righteous from him are often as trees 
with their roots in the water. So the words in his book spoke 
in a tongue that Raj could understand: ‘‘ My soul is among 
lions, and I lie even among them that are set on fire, even the sons 
of men, whose teeth are spears and arrows, and their tongue a 
sharp sword. They have prepared a net for my steps, my soul is 
bowed down,*they have digged a pit before me—I will cry unto 
God most high.” 

“But however things be,’ Raj had concluded, as they talked | 
together in the Hollow of Young Palms, “ He gives us peace, 
even when we are hungry He gives us peace.”” And to Marut it 
was alla mystery. He could neither deny, nor explain what he 
had seen. For how could a story account for such a change ? 
It could not account for it. Could a doctrine act so mightily ? 
Marut knew that it could not. There must be something more. 


158 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


What was that something more? Who listened when Raj cried ? 
God? But the Being-who-pervades-all-space (a fine Indian name 
for God) was surely too great, and most certainly too vague a 
conception to be thought of as deigning to attend to a poor man’s 
cry. And the world was full of cries and of great and clamorous 
noise; the very forest was not quiet here by the rushing 
river. 

Not that Marut consciously arrived at this. The workings of 
his mind were confused, and his thoughts afloat in a perplexed 
air were blown about hither and thither. 

Far then from him was a truth that he came upon at last, that 
not a bird in the forest falls unnoticed by the Father, nor is child 
of His caused to stumble, but He regards it. And far, far from 
him then, the faith that can see a poor bird fall, and hear a child 
cry unsuccoured, and yet know that somewhere, somehow, bird 
and child will be comforted. 


CHAPTER VII 
AND I SAID, “ YES, LORD” 


An Indian bazaar, viewed as a place of talk, is like a pool into 
which pebbles are continually being thrown. The waves race 
across it, criss-crossing one another, making an intricate change- 
ful pattern of manifold interferences. 

No one could tell exactly how he first knew that something 
extraordinary was happening in the forest. The messengers who 
took up the ammunition may have thrown the first few pebbles, 
for the story was too good to keep. Soon all men knew that a 
heavy packet of ammunition had been sent up, and that Raj 
had been pressed to come down and rob. They knew that he 
had been told of various police officers’ visits to the Garden 
House (proving, of course, that his friend and they were working 
together for his destruction) ; knew that he had been invited to 
consider the fact that each time he had tried to come in he had 
been all but caught, and, as he was unfailingly reminded, maimed 
for life; knew that he had refused to believe that she would 
betray him, but did believe she had forsaken him (the story which 
could only have proceeded from official sources, about her be- 
lieving he had come down to rob on the night of the fired house 
and writing to that effect to their chief, had cut Raj to the quick). 
And they knew of the urgings to have done with this fruitless 
goodness, which led nowhere ; knew of his refusal. At last the 
weasel-eyed man himself confessed what he had done, told of 


ANDI SAID, “YES, CORD” 159 


Raj’s resolve which nothing could shake, and gave Per the clue 
to the valley where the men were. 

Then up through the wood went Per on winged feet, and he 
found them. Per is not emotional, but he could never speak 
unmoved of that meeting. 

They were in a cave by a broad stream. They rose to meet 
him and searched his face with eager longing and love and joy 
in their eyes. That one look was enough. There was no need 
for assuring words. Then sitting on a boulder beside the water 
that sparkled that day in the sunshine, “ like diamonds,” said 
Per afterwards, “‘ like diamonds dancing for joy with us,” they 
talked earnestly, and Per heard of the weeks that had passed ; of 
the sadhu’s cave; of the ammunition sent up (‘‘ Here is what is 
left of it,” and Raj pointed to a goodly store heaped in a corner 
of the cave); of the tremendous temptation of the days when 
they thought themselves forsaken; of the comfort that came 
at last. And Per found Raj had grown spiritually and was learn- 
ing to rely upon the living God. 

But it is difficult to write about this without giving an exag- 
gerated impression. Raj had not a public-school tradition behind 
him, nor had he the Christian tradition that toned Per’s view of 
life in general, and this contemplated act of surrender in par- 
ticular ; and he argued as the East argues upon grounds that do 
not appeal to the West. For example, he had honestly tried to 
come in without being intercepted. He had failed. Why? To 
Raj the answer was obvious. ‘‘There’s a divinity that shapes our 
ends ’’ isnot mere poetry inthe East. It is accepted fact. Raj 
could see nothing beyond. He was blind if you will, he was 
certainly imperfectly enlightened. But so long as he was not 
disobedient to the light he had, he walked with an unclouded 
conscience. Nothing had happened to encourage him to trust 
the Law. He had good reason to distrust it. Each false charge 
deepened his distrust. 

But he broke off that momentous talk to invite Per to share 
their noontide meal. Per, knowing the scarcity of their supplies, 
would not hear of it; but Raj rose, got a plate made of leaves 
stitched together with a fibre from a jungle plant, and bade Chotu 
pile the rice upon it, “‘ else we shall not dine,” he said. So they 
had their meal together. Per described that meal set out on the 
stones of the river with the water flowing over amber pebbles, 
“clear like yellow wine.’ On either side were the great green 
trees of the wood, and there was the sound of birds singing, and 
the rustle of their wings as they flew to and fro across the stream. 
The men whom Per had grown to love as sons laughed and joked 


160 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


over that meal, tossing their sad thoughts aside, as they tossed 
withered leaves in idle play into the river. But the river that 
tumbled those leaves about, sweeping them round in merry little 
eddies, till a fuller rush of water carried them out of sight, could 
not do that with thoughts, and presently to comfort them. 
Per gave Raj the letter which he had brought up, and had 
kept as his last word for their last afternoon together. He knew 
it might be his last, and Raj knew it too, indeed urged that it 
might beso. They could bear to be without seeing him any more, 
Raj said, now that they knew he had not lost faith in them. 
And if he came he might be followed and shot. It did not matter 
about them; they were mere jungle animals; but he was a man 
of value. ‘‘ Do not come again,’ Raj said earnestly again and 
again. ‘‘ We shall never doubt again or fear, even if we may 
never meet.” This touched Per, but he did not argue the point, 
only watched with a new understanding the ways of the hunted 
man. And Raj took Carunia’s letter and, lifting it up with a 
little gesture of almost worship in his gratitude, “he kissed it 
with his eyes,” as Per said afterwards, and read it and reread it. 
Never once had he asked formoney. But he had asked for letters. 
“ Tear it up,” said Per after he had read their letter till Raj knew 
it off by heart, “‘ tear it up ; if it be found, it will bring trouble.” 

“Nay, never,” said Raj reproachfully. “‘ I cannot tear it up. 
But I will put it under a stone, and then when we come back to 
this cave we shall find it and read it again.” 

There must be many such letters under the stones of the caves. 
If those stones are ever overturned and the letters found, may 
they help to hearten some downcast man. 

‘See how bright the water sparkles,’’ said Raj as he folded his 
letter carefully. ‘‘Oh, the sparkling water!’’ and for one more 
hour they sat with Per and heard how down in the Garden House, 
night by night as well as day by day, and especially during moon- 
less hours (for it is then half the crimes of India are committed), 
there was prayer for them, and they were trusted. Their friends 
had not lost faith. 

“ But during that gloomy time we sinned,” Raj jerked out the 
words after a short silence. 

Per was startled and listened anxiously. Had they fallen after 
all? His fatherly face with its kind eyes must have encouraged 
their confession. Raj continued, ashamed but frank as ever— 
“We heard that one whom we had counted friend had lent his 
gun to the police to shoot us, and we went to his house, and 
demanded it in order to prove him and to see if indeed he had 
lent it. And we found that he had.” 


AND I SAID, “ YES, LORD” 161 


Then, with a gleam of the old humour, Raj described how he 
made the man give up his box of land-deeds and other valuables. 
“Some of his precious things we threw back to him, so”’—a 
contemptuous gesture showed it—‘ the box we carried off. But 
we returned it later, laying it near the well for him to find; and 
on it we fastened a mocking letter to say that he who would have 
slain us must now provide something to keep us alive. But, 
indeed, we were very greatly disheartened, and did all but 
despair,” and Chotu told how Raj had exclaimed in desperation, 
“ Would God that we could die! ’’ And they were so discouraged 
that they grew careless in prayer “ till about a month ago. Then 
a quickening came, and we prayed again.” 

“ About a month ago? ’’ When Per returned to the Garden 
House, dates and notes were eagerly examined, and it was found 
that, just when the men were quickened, a fresh prayer force 
had joined the van of the scattered little army of the Lord that 
had been called to this long conflict. 

Then they wrote their letters in reply to Carunia’s. They had 
a pen and a small bottle of ink and a little shabby paper. A flat 
stone made a writing table. 

“ Our spiritual mother must know that morning, noon, and 
evening we make it our custom to pray. And are we not being 
protected by the power of prayer? The Lord says, ‘ Ask, and 
ye shall receive ; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be 
opened unto you.’ To us according to that word may it be now. 
With our whole hearts we write’; thus Chotu. 

And Raj: “ We are both well. We are going on living without 
robbing or stealing. That we rob is the talk of the villages and 
the report of the police. They write us down in their reports as 
robbing. This is bitterness to us. As you cared for us before, 
so we ask you still to care for us. Till we give our spirits over to 
God, care for us. 

“ And we ask you to care for the Village of the Reeds” (where 
their people were turning to the Lord Jesus Christ). ‘‘ We long 
to see and speak with you. Wherever you appoint, we will meet 
you.” (But that could not rightly be planned without leave.} 
“We will do no robbery. This is my signature.”” And he signed 
his baptismal name. 

A postscript named a certain officer, ‘“‘ who sent many thieves 
up to us, saying, ‘Come with us and rob.’ When we inquired 
into the matter, we found men were robbing, and those robberies 
are in the records against us. So till now things have happened, 
and so they do still happen. Moreover, that officer, getting a 
box of caps and a box of gunpowder, gave them to the 

G 


162 RAf#, BRIGAND CHIEF 


above-mentioned robbers, saying, ‘ Give these to them.’ And they 
came and gave them to us, and we said, ‘ Why this?’ And one 
trusting us, told the truth, and we believed. When I think of 
youl am happy. At other times I am full of care.” 

“We make it our custom to pray’; here again a word is 
required if the Western reader is not to think more highly than 
he ought to think of these two who were still so immature. The 
East begins (where the West ends) with a consciousness of the 
Divine, a sense of the need of access and a great simplicity in 
seeking it. And these men who at any moment might find them- 
selves where “‘ without a screen, in one burst is seen the Presence 
wherein we have ever been,” did in truth know the tremendous 
need of Prayer. 

Per, as he gave Carunia the notes, said little, but his face was 
tender and his voice tender too. ‘‘ Poor men, called so wicked, 
so fierce, that the hunters with guns fear to meet them. And I 
know them to be as gentle as two children.” 

“* And their confession was the confession of two children,” he 
went on, “‘ it explained that matter that was dark to us a little 
while ago.”” For when the land documents were taken from a 
house near the Garden Village, the story had been entangled 
with a tale of a genuine robbery. How disentangle the tales ? 
When the box was returned, as has been told, the owner, recog- 
nizing the joke, had the good sense and the honesty to wish to 
withdraw his charge. But it was too late. It figured as another 
of the daring robberies of this most elusive Raj. 

A day or two later Per came to Carunia again, and now his face 
had indeed a holy light. 

“A thing has been shown to me,’ he said. “ Last night my 
Lord appeared to me, and He said, ‘ Are you willing to give your 
life for the men ? ’ 

“ And I said, ‘ Yes, Lord.’ 

“ Then I was quiet, and no more words did He speak; but I 
knew I was to go and try to stay with the men in the forest and 
open to them more than they know yet of the love of the Lord 
Jesus.” 

And then he told Carunia of how he knew of their longing to 
be taught more, and of how they had pleaded again that she 
would teach them, before she asked them to give themselves up, 
lest they should fall and dishonour His name again ; and of how 
that could not be. But now he must try to doit, he said ; sharing 
their risks he must live with them, if possible, out in the forest, 
daily teaching them and strengthening them. And he said, “ If 
once they saw the piercing of those hands and of those feet, if 


AND TISAIDY YES, (LORD, 163 


they saw the crown of thorns on that head, would anything 
matter to them? Oh, they would endure, if only they looked for 
one long look at Calvary.” 

Jail, with what the word must mean now that their escape 
must double its severities, the ignominies, those heartrending 
yearnings for the free forest and the running water, the separation 
the one from the other, the public trial in the Court (with friends 
forbidden to come forward to prove an alibi), the sentence—Yes, 
it was true, they could endure it all, but only if they so saw 
Calvary as never to lose the vision of that suffering and that love. 

From the first Carunia had played a straight game with 
Authority as much as with the hunted men. She had told the 
hunters of that sending of rugs to help the men to get through 
the rain to a place where they would be led to come in. She 
told now of this resolve that Per had made, so that should he 
be shot, as he might be if he were found with the men, Authority 
at least would understand that he too had played the game. 

So Per started forth upon his mission. The forest opened to 
receive him. Then it closed, and a great silence fell. 


PART VIII 


O God, wert Thou ploughing 
Thy profitless earth 
With the brave plough of Love, 
And the sharp plough of Pain P 
But hark to the mirth 
Of wheat-field in harvest ! 
Dear Plougher, well worth 
That ploughing, this yellow gold grain. 


THE VALLEY OF VISION. 


I see that the Lord can ride through His enemies’ bands, and triumph in the 
sufferings of His own ; and that this blind world seeth not that sufferings are 
Christ's armour, wherein He is victorious. And they who contend with Zion 
see not what He ts doing, when they are set to work, as under-smiths and 
servants to the work of refining the saints. Satan’s hand also, by them, is 
at the melting of the Lord’s vessels of mercy, and their office in God’s house is 
to scour and cleanse vessels for the King’s table. 

SAMUEL RUTHERFORD, 
1637. 


CHAPTER I 
THE POOLS WERE FILLED WITH WATER 


MONG the villages under the mountains where Raj’s people 
lived was one, quite a little one, but a fort. No one was 
allowed to be a Christian in the Village of the Reeds. Preaching 
was forbidden there ; the more persuasive teaching was of course 
forbidden too. The people feared intensely their powerful over- 
lord, who had given orders that no one, in what he called his 
village, should become a Christian. Fear kept their village closed. 
But some fifty years before this story begins, a man of God 
went to the mountain-foot villages, and, being refused admission, 
grieved exceedingly. He prayed for the over-lord, father of the 
man who now ruled there. Kneeling by the ashes of a prayer © 
room which the over-lord had burned down, he prayed for the 
oppressor, “‘ O that he might live before Thee! But if he will not 
turn to Thee, O Lord, break his power to oppress.”’ And a swift 
answer came to that prayer. The over-lord refused the call of 
love, and the Lord touched him, even as long ago He touched 
the King of Babylon; his understanding was darkened. And 


164 


THE POOLS WERE FILLED WITH WATER 165 


though it is not known that he ever made the great confession 
of that king, it is known that to some of the mountain-foot 
villages there was the dawning of the light, and that his power 
to forbid failed him at the last. But the Village of the Reeds 
was not one of the lighted places. 

Then the old man died and his son reigned in his stead, and 
(for he was even as his father had been) it was as if that prayer 
of long ago had been forgotten. 

Prayer is never forgotten. If this book carries one word more 
than another it is this: 

“The vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it 
shall speak, and not lie; though it tarry, wait for it ; because it 
will surely come, it will not tarry.” 

But not always by shining ways does that vision break on 
man. Who would have seen in the little closed-up room in the 
Villiage of the Reeds the beginning of the revelation of joy ? 

It was midnight then in that little room; three serious-faced 
men were there. On a box on the floor lay a sheet of foolscap 
covered with careful writing; a man was writing with a fine- 
pointed pen, which he dipped between every two or three words 
into a small inkpot, and then shook out on the beaten earth floor. 
An anxious old man and an anxious old woman hovered near. 
The room was lighted by the yellow flame of a morsel of twisted 
rag in a saucer of oil. The flame burned steadily, for every 
window in the little house was shut, and the door was jammed to 
and bolted. The men spoke in undertones at first, till they forgot 
that darkness itself has ears, and let their voices out as they 
pondered earnestly over each word and phrase. At last the 
equivalent of “ And your petitioners will ever pray,” being 
rendered copiously, they all three signed the letter and folded it 
up in another sheet of foolscap, gumming down the edges with 
a pickle of soft-boiled rice. 

“ Our own post office would not be safe.” (Some forty such 
letters posted in that office in one week had failed, so far as their 
senders knew, to reach their destination.) “ To-morrow I will 
post it half a day’s journey distant,” said the son of the house, 
a young schoolmaster, who had acted as scribe. ‘It will be 
safe here for to-night.” And he found a dinted tin cash-box and 
locked up the precious letter, and hid the box under a nonde- 
script heap in a corner of the little room. 

Then the heavy door was opened, and the other two went to 
their own homes, trusting that no one had seen. They forgot 
the spy who lived close by. They forgot the aperture between 
the wall and the palm-leaf roof, 


166 RA#, BRIGAND CHIEF 


The three men were Studi, a quiet man and fond of his com- 
forts, but with a valorous vein running through his softness ; 
Satya, a young worker on the mountains, strong, plucky, resolute, 
who had been in the house in the forest when Undu came to drug 
Raj ; and the schoolmaster, a wisp of a man, with no stamina to 
speak of, but like the other two, ardent in spirit. They all wore 
the half-moon shaven head with its tucked-up back hair that 
marks the orthodox Hindu. They had been writing a letter to 
Authority to beg that the blackmail which was draining the 
little villages might cease, and also to tell of the himsa in more 
violent forms, threatened and sometimes performed. The petition 
was an earnest prayer for protection. 


“My son, listen! Alas! What is that?’ It was morning 
now. The school children were crooning their lessons on the 
verandah, a pile of small silver, their week’s fees, lay heaped up 
in a corner. The children’s sing-song recitations had drowned © 
the sound of footsteps approaching the house. A spasm of fear 
crossed the old man’s face. “‘O my son, my son, the folees!”’ 

In a moment the children had scattered, the house was full 
of men ransacking every hole and cranny. The box was found, 
wrenched open, and the letter held up: “Here itis! Thou to 
inform against us!’’ The finder read it aloud, shouted it word 
by word, interrupted often by an indignant clamour. 

When the dazed old father recovered his senses, his house was 
quiet and empty. Gone was his son, and the letter, and the small 
pile of children’s fees, and the money stored in the tin cash-box. 
He stumbled out, only to see his son being thrashed with a tama- 
rind bough, while rough voices shouted, “‘ Thou to inform against 
us,”’ 

The schoolmaster was dragged off, handcuffed, and charged 
with harbouring Raj and Chotu. His parents followed, hoping 
to bail him out ; but they soon lost sight of him. He was taken 
from place to place till he had been in six sub-jails, and emerged 
after twenty-four days half wrecked in health. He could have 
escaped it all had he only yielded in so far as to say that he had 
heard that Raj had killed Undu. 

Meanwhile, in the hope of getting evidence, the old man who 
had been in the forest on the night when Undu came up with the 
drug, was seized, and told to say that Raj had murdered Undu. 
But he held out against blows, merely wailing, ‘I cannot say 
it. I cannot say it. Am I not a father of seven children?” 
(He had probably forgotten the number of his grandchildren.) 


THE POOLS WERE FILLED WITH WATER _ 167 


“ How can I lie now?” And nothing more than this could be 
got out of him, except that to any who would listen he added, 
“ And I saw Red Tiger with his book upon his knees, and he said ”’ 
—and the plaintive quaver would attempt Raj’s decisive bass— 
“ but for the teaching of this book,” and so on, Raj’s usual clear- 
cut little testimony on that subject. 

Satya was the next to be hailed. But it is far from our thought 
to dwell upon the painful and the wrong. There is nothing eternal 
in wrong and pain; they are not worth a pause. And yet just 
enough must be shown to give the setting of the song that was 
soon to rise from those frightened little streets. Satya was told 
to say that he knew of the murder of Undu, or that he knew that 
Studi had something to do with it, had, for example, written 
to Raj suggesting it; and because he refused, there was 
himsa. 

All this happened in such a little village that hardly anyone 
outside that corner of India had ever hearditsname. But nothing 
is little to God, and nothing baffles Him, He can turn even himsa 
to sweetness. And it was through that himsa that His purposes 
were fulfilled for the Village of the Reeds, and the prayers that 
had seemed to be blown away on the wind that blows from the 
hills were answered. 

For the anxious and terrified men and their friends fled to the 
Garden House and begged for protection, which, indeed, could 
not be given, though shelter and comfort could. They worked 
for their food, and daily they gathered under a tree, and were 
taught the way of liberty from fear. 

Then a warrant was served on Satya. He faced it gamely, 
though he knew it spelt ruin so far as his poor little finances 
were concerned. Win or lose, a police case means very heavy 
expense. To win does not mean that costs will be paid as when 
the prosecutors are ordinary people. When the Sirkar prosecutes, 
you stand to lose heavily, innocent or guilty. Ifyou are innocent, 
or rather if you can prove yourself innocent, a very different 
matter, you will not be fined or put in jail, but you must pay costs 
yourself. The group of six or seven men in the sketchy undress 
of the land, but undeniably constables, of whom one carried a 
gun, came to arrest Satya, and he looked them one by one straight 
in the face. ‘‘ That is the man who flogged me with a tamarind 
bough to make me bear false witness,’’ he said finally, pointing to 
a man who slunk behind the others, for English people were 
there ; and then addressing him, “‘ You flogged me, an innocent 
man ; was that according to the law of the Sirkar ? ”’ 

Satya passed through the same experience as his forerunner, 


168 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


the schoolmaster. He walked the roads in handcuffs, he was 
locked up in six sub-jails, and it was a very weary man who was 
at last released on bail. 

Then came Studi’s turn. Studi was so very mild, such a 
virtuous white rabbit kind of man, that the idea of his doing 
anything criminal struck everyone who knew him as too ridiculous 
to be taken seriously. He had not got it in him; prison, fines, 
indignities were the last things he coveted. And yet he rose 
superior to fear when his hour came. When the warrant was 
served on him he was very ill; but even so he was dragged off, 
and was being pulled along the path more dead than alive when 
a woman half-demented with distress rushed to the Garden 
House. ‘‘ Save him, save him! He will die this night if they 
take him.” But he could not have been saved had it not been for 
the presence of a Government doctor who chanced to be paying 
a visit to the house, and who promptly wrote a medical certificate 
and forbade the men to touch him. They were much alarmed 
for their own safety. ‘‘ If we take this to our master, what will 
he say ?”’ they said, holding up the letter more than dubiously. 
“* Are we not his slaves ? ”’ 

“You are not his slaves, you are the servants of the King,” 
they were told ; but the King was far away, and their “‘ master ”’ 
was very near; so this was poor comfort. 

Studi collapsed after they went. He was in the greatest 
anxiety about the crime with which he was charged—was it 
harbouring, or was it complicity in a murder? The warrant of 
arrest was illegible, the police could only repeat a number 
which meant nothing to him ; and as the Garden House did not 
then possess a copy of the Indian Penal Code, it was equally 
unintelligible to his friends. 

“Tf it be murder, what shall I do? ” muttered poor Studi to 
himself, as he lay in a huddled hot heap on his mat. ‘ And if 
it be harbouring, what shallI do? Either way it will be a money- 
eating trial in the Court.” 

But as the days passed, Studi became strong; for Christ, 
the strong Saviour, found him and strengthened him with strength 
in his soul. Then what had appeared impossible became possible. 
When that which he had dreaded came upon him, he went for- 
ward to meet it undismayed, and passing through the valley of 
weeping he used it for a well, and the pools were filled with 
water. 





RAJ’S ROCK 


A black boulder which will for ever be known as ‘ Raj’s Rock,’’ for upon it he often 
stood gazing down to the plains, watching for the coming of friends or foes, and thinking 


as he watched. 





JUST ONE DAY APART 169 


CHAPTER II 
JUST ONE DAY APART 


O lift your heads, ye sorrowing ones, 
And be ye glad of heart ; 

For Calvary Day and Easter Day, 

Earth’s saddest day and gladdest day, 
Were just one day apart. 


IT is a true word, and Easter joy runs through this story like a 
golden thread in a dark tissue, One evening soon after Studi’s 
arrest, in the hope that a visit might be allowed, a Ford car found 
its way to the police station where Studi and Satya were confined. 
But no, “ There is not to be permission given for anyone to go 
near the door,’’ said the six burly constables who stood about 
on the verandah, and they pointed to the grating opening off 
that verandah. It was too dark to see more than bars against 
the dark. 

‘““ May we speak to them, standing here ? ” 

“No one may speak to them. It is an order.” 

A little girl had come in the Ford for a birthday treat. “ May 
this little one sing to you ? ” 

Even the hardest nodded his head indulgently. The child 
stood among them, a little birthday wreath, half blown off, upon 
her hair, her happy brown eyes smiling on the strange rough 
men, ‘a new kind of men,” she called them afterwards. And 
she sang the last hymn she had learned, for it was Holy Week : 


When I survey the wondrous Cross 
On which the Prince of glory died— 


She sang it to the end, and from the darkness behind the grating 
broke the sound of singing : 


Lover of souls, Lover of souls, 
What should I do without Thee ? 


“ Be silent, sing not, breathe not !’’ shouted the guards, For 
a moment the song persisted, then stopped. But the Ford 
returned rejoicing. He who was taken from prison and from 
judgment was with His men in their prison. 

It was so, perpetually : such a darkness, a barred-in darkness, 
only poor sin-hardened faces round about, only hearts sin- 
hardened too, made cruel, it may be, by cruelty—to know all 
would be to pity rather than to condemn. And yet, out of the 
darkness, a song. 


170 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Surely something will live from those days. As Studi and 
Satya were being led off, after they had been bailed out and were 
summoned for their second trial, just as they reached the high 
road where the shame of handcuffs would be most keenly felt, 
the officer in charge whispered, “ Fifty rupees and there need 
be no handcuffs.”” To which, with a flash of heavenly insight, 
Studi answered, “‘ These iron bangles are golden bracelets to us.” 
And they stretched out their hands. 


CHAPTER IIT 
ALAS! FOR THE JOKE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN 


It was the day of one of the hearings in Court. Studi, accused 
of harbouring the outlaws, was still too weak to stand the jolting 
in the bullock-cart for long hot hours, and so was being taken to 
Court in the Ford. This, though only newly acquired, was 
already well known throughout the district by its red flag upon 
which words of salvation were so clearly written that people 

could read them as it passed. : 

Up in the forest, news that Studi was to be tried that day and 
would be taken in the car, had filled the two, so nearly concerned, 
with mingled feelings of distress and grateful affection. For 
kindness shown to friends of theirs was kindness shown to them. 
Studi was a friend of old days. And they had heard that their 
chief oppressors were going by public motor to gloat over the 
troubles of the innocent. 

“ Let us go down and give them the fright of their sinful lives,” 
said Raj. 

“ Hurrah !”’ said Chotu, or words to that effect. 

So down they went to the road. It was the maddest kind of 
madness, hardly matched by one perpetrated soon afterwards 
when in blazing sunshine they marched with their guns over their 
shoulders through a certain well-policed town. For to stop 
a public motor on the road and pull out one or two of its 
occupants would be distinctly exciting. But the road, with 
its great heaped rocks and wild country adjoining, was the very 
place for such an adventure. So they went down and waited. 

Presently the little Ford with its flag flapping in the wind went 
scudding past. It was all they could do not to run out then 
and stop that car; but they restrained themselves. 

And now the more ponderous public motor-bus hurried into 
sight ; but the keen eyes that searched the men on the narrow 
seats under the awning were disappointed. The bus was full, 


CHECKMATE 171 


They were all but sure they saw the gross, gorged, vulture-like 
figure of their chief enemy crouching low among the other pas- 
sengers, but could not be certain enough to move, and they looked 
at the hunched-up shoulders with anything but devotion as the 
motor bustled past. ‘‘ They have guessed we would do it. The 
pity of it! Alas for the joke it would have been!’ And they 
turned and went up the hill. 

What a tale for the newspapers, had they carried it off! What 
head-lines—the very motors on the road attacked! What thrills 
lost to the greedy world ! 

But speaking seriously, it was just as well that the joke did 
not come off. It might have led to something far removed from 
laughter. 


CHAPTER IV 
CHECKMATE 


“No, no: they would not have hurt them. They would only 
have shaken them till their teeth danced. It would have done 
them no harm. It might have done them good.”’ So everyone 
who knew Raj’s nature declared. ‘“‘ For he is incapable of hurting 
anything that is in his power. Chotu and Vina used to twit 
him about it; so did all his men. He would be kind to the devil 
if he had the chance.” 

Raj was not the only disappointed man that day. Studi had 
been strung up to the ordeal, and had looked for victory by 
miracle, and to find the Court-house empty and no one to explain 
why, was disconcerting. At last a Court servant was unearthed 
who said, ‘‘ Postponed,” and with that he had to be content. 
There were several postponements. It is no slight thing to a man 
who lives far from a Court to gather up his witnesses and friends 
—for friends go to encourage the alarmed witnesses, if indeed 
the man has been fortunate enough to secure witnesses at all— 
convey them to the Court, see to their being supplied with food, 
make sure of being on the spot hours before the time, so as to be 
sure not to be late, and to carry through all a brave heart in a 
sick body; but this is what Studi had to do, and frequently, 
especially during the Court proceedings of later months. Once 
not even a servant could be found to explain why the Court-house 
was shut up; but at last some kind of a message reached the 
perplexed party. It was to the effect that the police, anxious 
for the safety of their witnesses, could not produce them while 
Raj was at large. 


172 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


These superfluous penalties could have been avoided by notice 
given beforehand; but, whether given or not, it never reached 
the men concerned; so the whole party would trudge back, 
or drag slowly through the long day and half a night in bullock- 
carts ; and Studi and his fellow-sufferers were of course respon- 
sible, not only for the lawyer’s fees for that lost day, but for the 
losses incurred by their witnesses and sympathisers, who could 
not otherwise afford to leave their work. Such expenses pile up 
and tell heavily on men who have little ready money. 

“ Tf I had paid the blackmail asked at the beginning to escape 
it all, it would not have come to half this loss,’’ said Studi one 
day, much tempted. But he did not pay; he lost his kingdom : 
he kept his soul. 

One day a private message reached Carunia. “‘ The police 
witnesses are coming to see if Studi will offer more than they 
have been promised. Jf you happen to be in the room when 
they come, you will know what we have said is true.”’ (For 
Carunia, in spite of doubts, had tried to support Law, for the sake 
of example, and this had sometimes rather chilled the poor 
men.) She decided it would be worth while to happen to be in 
the room. 

The room was part of the front verandah of the house, walled 
in so as to make a small side-room. In that room, while Studi 
was still too ill to be moved, he and his Hindu guard had read the 
Gospels day after day, for his guard, by the special kindness of 
God, was friendly and interested in his prisoner. Often the picture 
the two made, as they read together, recalled a more illustrious 
prisoner and his guard. Friends came freely, and soon after 
Carunia went there half a dozen men sauntered in and sat down 
on the floor round the low cot on which Studi lay. The talk was 
general for a while. Carunia was busy about something, and no 
one was thinking about her. Presently up went a hairy arm: 
“A free gun licence was promised’’; and another said, “‘ and 
twenty-five rupees.”” Studi answered quietly, “‘ I offer nothing.” 
“Nothing ¢ '’’ The tone was surprised; and the talk drifted 
back to ordinary channels. 

The hairy-armed, shaggy-headed man who had spoken first 
returned a few days afterwards, and before various people, one 
of them an Englishman, without the least reserve he talked of his 
bribe. He was a devil-may-care sort of fellow, and saw no 
particular reason for not telling. With him was a younger man. 
His directions were to worm himself into the confidence of the 
Garden House, by listening to the preaching. He could even be 
converted if that would help. 


CHECKMATE 173 


He was an interesting youth. His wrist had been broken in 
himsa, and when he had prepared to appeal to Authority (“I 
have the duplicate of my appeal safe to this day,’’ he said) he 
was offered twenty-five rupees to be quiet. So when he went to 
the hospital to be mended, he said his accident was the result 
ofa fall. After this, he felt that on the side of the Law there was 
power, power of two kinds ; and he enlisted as a spy. 

He was a good spy ; he did his best to obey instructions and 
become a faithful convert. But he found it too difficult. Some- 
thing in the air of the place caught at his throat and stifled the 
glib words that rose to his tongue. After a day or two he gave 
it up. 

. There was another, Form of Deception was the meaning of 
his narme—his parents must have had singular prescience— 
whose difficulty was that he did not know whom to deceive, the 
police or the Garden House. On the one hand, the favour of the 
police was of great importance to him. He hardly knew how to 
risk the loss of it. On the other hand, it was evident that the 
Garden House intended to stand by Studi; surely therefore 
they could be counted upon to treat very generously with a poor 
man who could so materially help or hinder. Full of hope, 
therefore, Form of Deception came to that house with his fair 
proposal, and full of sadness he went away. 

Full, too, of perplexity was that poor man. The ways of 
white people were mystery and madness. Here they were getting 
themselves into the black books of the powers that be, by stand- 
ing openly by Studi, and they did not seem in the least concerned 
about their reputation. They would risk all that, and yet they 
would not pay one little silver coin to help Studi to win his case. 
They even said they were standing by him because he had refused 
to do that very thing himself. ; . . ‘‘ What a world it is,” said 
Form of Deception to himself. ‘‘ What a queer world, and full 
of queer people,” but the queerest were these white people in the 
Garden House. 

He nursed, however, a small private hope. That house had 
connections in his village and the mad folk of the Garden House 
were constantly there. So he waited patiently for a suitable 
opportunity and, beguiling the obdurate one into friendly con- 
versation, he put his case before her again. But to his vexation 
she did not seem to understand, and asked him to forsake the 
ways of lying and all other works of darkness and let the light 
that was even then streaming down the village street enter into 
his heart and cleanse it from every evil thing. 

Form of Deception meditated awhile, his screwed-up eyes 


174 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


drawn into two narrow slits, his crinkled old mouth pursed up ; 
he was thinking, “I can tell the polees that she tried to get me 
to promise not to say what they order; they will call that ‘ in- 
terfering with the course of Justice.’ I may be able to make 
something out of this.’’ At last he spoke, “ A free gun licence 
and twenty-five rupees ?”’ It wasa kind of tentative murmur, and 
it was his last bid. It fell flat. Poor old Form of Deception, he 
sold his soul for a free gun licence and twenty-five rupees. 

Through the prolonged weariness of this first trial there was 
one great human consolation apart from the Divine. In a land 
where everything is known, a man’s price, if he has one, is known ; 
if a magistrate is incorruptible, that fact is, of course, known at 
once. Andall that may happen to perplex the judgment is known. 
While Studi’s case was going on, a trial by jury was being held 
in another Court. The jurymen took bribes from both sides, but 
honestly returned the amount advanced by the lower bidders, 
who, of course, lost their case, and went to jail for three years. 
Studi and his friends felt that they had cause for thankfulness ; 
first, because of their judge: ‘‘ We hear that, being of the Sirkar, 
he is convinced that our whole caste is guilty. We are keeping 
Raj out, they say. But he will not take bribes. There will be 
a fair trial.’”” And secondly, because there would be no jury. 
For a jury in India does not connote what the word does in Eng- 
land. Caste may operate powerfully, the jurymen are not 
necessarily of the caste of the accused. And a majority of one 
may wreck a man’s life. In a trial which followed upon Raj’s 
death, the sentence pronounced on the finding of a majority of 
one aggregated thirty-six years’ rigorous imprisonment. No 
one who knows India will say that the jewel of truth is easily 
found anywhere, but the experienced Judge will be the first to 
admit that it is not as yet conspicuously evident in her law- 
courts. And the Judge has to act upon evidence produced. 
How it came to be produced is not his business. 

But what a handicap truth-telling can be. Only those who 
have tried to prove in Court that something ‘‘seen”’ did not 
happen at all, can imagine how impossible it can be to do so. 
Nothing less than an alibi is much use, and that was impossible 
without lying, as all three men had been in the village on the 
night they were “seen ’’ entertaining Raj and Chotu. 

And yet, though the evidence against them was prepared with 
skill, there was one slight slip. It was stated that the spies, 
looking through a crack in the front door of the schoolmaster’s 
house on a certain night, saw Studi, Satya and the schoolmaster 
feasting the outlaws whose very guns were seen. 


AND THOU, BROTHER! 175 


But, about the middle of things, some from the Garden House 
went off on their own account, and they found the door was a 
new one and had no crack between its substantial planks, nor 
was there the least opening between it and its side-posts and 
lintel. They planned to bring that door to Court. But, care- 
fully as they had gone about the business of examining the door, 
their action had been observed and understood. The door 
mysteriously disappeared. Checkmate, without a doubt. 


CHAPTER V 
AND THOU, BROTHER! 


CHECKMATE indeed it appeared on the day when a witness for 
the prosecution stood up in strength to give evidence in the 
charge framed against Studi and Satya, who, their dignity left 
at home, stood feebly all alone at the end of the long glary Court, 
being tried in a language that they did not understand. ‘‘ Thieves 
and murderers ’’ was the concise description of the men Studi 
was said to have harboured, and the speaker’s hands clasped 
behind his back worked nervously, twisting and untwisting. 
The deceiver is known by his restless hands, says the keen little 
Indian proverb. 

But even the people who had clung to their faith in Raj were 
beginning to be unsure. Had not the magician seen the killing 
of Undu the Rat in the Magic Ink? Had he not said in his 
trance, “‘ Let his relatives go to such and such a tree and they 
will find one of his bones in the fork thereof”? And had not 
the relatives gone and found a forearm in the fork of that very 
tree ? 

And yet, according to popular report, those two still roamed 
the country, robbing and pillaging in a most high-handed fashion, 
and shouted across the village streets, ‘‘ Hai, Red Tiger! Ho 
thou, Chotu!”’ just as if a bag of two thousand rupees reward 
did not dangle over their heads, and spies were not watching 
everywhere. 

It was true that spies watched everywhere. One day, just 
after the six months’ drawn-out trial had ended disastrously for 
Studi and Satya, two of them, father and son, joined a party of 
some thirty men bound for the forest to catch hares. 

The thirty knew them for what they were; but they were 
fellow-villagers, and there was no avoiding them. So they all 
went up together. None of the thirty had any idea of the where- 
abouts of Raj just then, and suddenly, to their consternation 


176 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


they saw him, and feared. For to own to friendship before the 
spies would lead straight to trouble, and to be with those wretched 
spies at all was horrible. And what would Raj do ? 

Among them was Marut, the herb doctor. He hung back, 
anxious for Raj, anxious for himself, but keenly alive to the 
chance given now. What would Raj do? Would his new religion 
help him here? The spies were related to Raj, and for a relative 
to act as spy passed all bounds of decency. Marut shook with 
apprehension. Was he going to see a crime ? 

Raj was sitting in the mouth of a cave with his gun across his 
knees. He was alone. As the crowd came up he stood up, his 
face full of welcome. Then he saw the chief spy—it was he who 
had murmured, ‘‘ It is an order,’ when Sakuni had told him 
exactly how Raj was to.be lamed. Raj had heard about that, 
of course i; he heard everything. For the first time since that day 
he saw him; he fixed his eyes on him, and for a moment there 
was a tense silence. ‘‘ The test, the test !’’ whispered Marut 
to himself. “‘ What will Raj do?’ The next moment, still 
looking fixedly upon the spy, Raj opened his arms wide, and 
advanced towards him; ‘‘ And thou, brother !’’ he said, and the 
tears rushed into his eyes, and the other man ran to him, and they 
embraced, and Raj said no harder word than that, ‘‘ And thou, 
brother |”’ 

Presently Chotu, who was away at the time, returned. “O 
elder brother, shall I shoot ? Shall I shoot ?”’ he cried; not by 
any means wholly in mischief, and then to the spy, ‘‘ Shall I 
shoot thee who wouldst have shot us?” ‘‘Stay thy hand. 
Do not tease him,” said Raj quickly. ‘I have forgiven him ; 
we are friends.’”’ And though Chotu, who found his captain 
trying at such times, could not refrain from protest, ‘‘ Always 
the same! Forgive, forgive!’ he obeyed. But the spy’s son 
had heard, and he remembered it against Chotu. A day was to 
come when he would shoot and no one would say, “ Stay thy 
hand.” 


CHAPTER VI 
THE RISHI, SILK-SCARF, AND A PRICKED BUBBLE 


TuaT the trial of Studi and Satya had ended in defeat did not 
appear at once. To their English friends it had sounded almost 
like victory. The men were merely bound over to keep the peace. 
But to them, to their whole clan, this meant nothing less than 
calamity. Whatever the phrase technically meant, practically 
it laid them open to police inspection of a harassing kind, with the 





THE MOUNTAINS 





THAT LOOKED DOWN UPON THE SCENE OF RAJ’S 
GREAT DECISION. (Page 147.) 





RISHI, SILR-SCARF, AND PRICKED BUBBLE 177 


fear of blackmail attached. The praise-meeting to return thanks 
for their acquittal was not enthusiastic. ‘It is not imprison- 
ment: itis nota fine: but it amounts to both,” was their sum- 
ming up of their wretched situation. Still, it might have been 
worse, and when the summons came to attend Court again as 
the case was to be retried, it was a distinct shock. The other 
side openly rejoiced and, gathering their witnesses, swept off 
in triumph. And no one, least of all the chief witness for the 
prosecution, knew that the hour for the victory of truth had 
struck, and that his tongue would cleave to the roof of his mouth 
when he stood up in the witness-box, 

Studi was still ill, so again the Ford took him to the Court 
and, leaving him there, went to the sacred falls called the Place 
of Expiation. 

The waterfalls which offer this/grace to the bather are some 
distance from the main road. Youclimb a mountain road carved 
in curves up the hill-side. To the‘right, as you climb, the rocks 
are sheer ; to the left, there is a steep drop to the carpet of the 
Plains, green in the season of young rice, gold in harvest time. 
Rocks crop up here and there, palms and many magnificent 
trees delight the eye. A river flows between wooded banks, and 
threads a little old-world village; near by rises the grey tower 
of a temple from its pillared precincts. But that temple is only 
the outer gate to the very small, still more ancient and sacred 
shrine in the depths of the wood. 

The climbing road opens on the river-side. You see a long 
staircase of rough-hewn stone, and descend till you come to the 
level of the river. Scores of little rivers flow everywhere, and you 
walk through the clear streamlets till you come to the shrine, set 
as near as may be to the unapproachable loveliness beyond. 

For here, when the rains have filled every swift mountain- 
torrent, is a beauty that passes poor words of ours. Stand at 
the foot of that white passion of purity and the heart must be 
dull, the imagination a withered straw, if no appreciation of what 
lies behind its name dawns upon the mind. Here, if anything 
earthly can offer it, is the place of the expiation of sin. 

In that shrine lived a famous rishi. Clad in his salmon- 
coloured robe, with his rosary of Siva’s beads, his wonderful 
pictured Wheel of Life, and his photograph of his guru who had 
lived to an immiense age and had been, he said, revived from the 
grave, he was at any time a striking figure. But seen immediately 
upon his emergence from a forty hours’ trance of meditation, he 
was as one belonging to another sphere. 

And it was then that Carunia first saw him, and meeting her 


M 


178 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


at such a moment he took it as an omen of good, and invited her 
into his cell, and opened many things to her, interpreting the 
Wheel, and the wonder thereof. 

Presently his talk turned to the way of expiation from sin. 

“Ts there anything that will change desire?’’ And to his 
hearer’s surprise the rishi spoke of Raj, ‘“‘ once a mighty robber, 
but now good and gentle to all, even asa rishi,”’ and he looked up 
with that wave of the hand which contains a whole sentence of 
wonder. And as she smiled, glad of this unexpected witness, the 
holy man, mistaking the smile for one of incredulity, said, shaking 
his head gravely, and almost reprovingly, as though he held her 
responsible, ‘‘ O poor, to be so hunted—he who injures no one! ”’ 
And he spoke of Raj’s forgiveness of his enemies as too wonderful 
to be explained. The thought of such forgiveness was not new 
to him, he had read his classics ; he knew the fine stanza which 
speaks of the loyalty due even to the friend who disappoints. 
““ Keep the sad secret hid,” said the poet, “ hold by him still. 
The growing grain has husks, the water has its foam, the flower 
its scentless sheath.’’ But the rishi did not know how to attain 
to this. ‘‘ Being forgiven, I forgive,’ was all Raj said; and this 
was indeed a dark saying to the rishi. 

Shortly after this Carunia went down to the lower temple. 
Here was the usual crowd of all sorts and conditions of men, and 
among them was a spirited young fellow with a brilliantly 
coloured silk scarf flung across his shoulders. 

At that time the country was seething with tales of Raj’s 
latest crime. A dacoity full of incident had been described in 
the papers. But Silk Scarf would have none of it, and he de- 
claimed on Raj to an intently listening group of people who had 
no desire whatever to hear the Gospel, till Silk Scarf turning to 
Carunia, said, ““ Behold, here is Raj’s mother,” and after that 
they listened ; never had preacher a more compelling text, for 
all wanted to hear what had caused the Red Tiger to become a 
worshipper of the Christians’ God. 

Silk Scarf listened too, interpolating hilarious little tales of his 
own. It transpired that he was the son of the poet who had 
written and sold thousands of songs about the robber captain in 
his bandit days. ‘‘ But now my father writes no more, for no 
more are these deeds being done. Raj isa new man: he lives for 
heaven now. And when the big reward was offered, every good 
man of every caste braced himself,’ and he braced his scarf 
across his shoulders with a quick gesture. ‘‘ If he is ever caught, 
it will be by treachery ; not otherwise.” 

By this time it was drawing towards evening and the Court 


YUBILATE 179 


would certainly have risen. Wondering how poor Studi and 
Satya were bearing up, their friends went back to the Court, to 
be met by the two men and all their friends. There was one 
joyous shout. ‘“‘ Case dismissed! No case!” 

“How ? Why?” 

“We do not know; only we know it is Case dismissed. Vic- 
tory! Victory!’’ And nobody knew how to be glad enough. 
Then they trooped back to the Court-house and, kneeling down 
on the back verandah out of sight of the official world within, 
thanked God. 

But what had happened? The evidence had broken down ; 
that was all that could be told. No one had connected that 
morning on the hill-side and the party who went up to catch hares, 
and the encounter with Raj in the cave and his, ‘‘ And thou, 
brother,’ with that morning in Court. But the two mornings were 
linked together, for the forgiven spy was the chief police witness. 
When the order came to appear for the retrial, he had endeav- 
oured to get out of his engagement. But he had found that 
impossible. When he stood up to speak, “‘ And thou, brother !”’ 
rang in his ears. His evidence utterly collapsed. The case 
collapsed with it, a pricked bubble. Butno one, not even Studi, 
still less the vexed and baffled Prosecution, had any idea how it 
came about that the chief false witness had so lamentably failed. 


CHAPTER VII 
JUBILATE 


“ THE first one who dares to ring a bell in the Village of the 
Reeds to call the people to Christian worship shall be beaten by 
a pariah with a sandal.” 

The word had stood unchallenged for more years than anyone 
remembered. No one had rung that bell. 

But Raj had been kept from sin, and the men of the village 
would have felt it shame to blacken his name to save themselves 
from trouble. So there was trouble, that himsa which had caused 
them to turn for comfort to Christians, who had led them to the 
Comforter. 

Raj knew that by escaping from jail he had given reason to 
the enemies of Christ to blaspheme ; he was humbled by that 
thought. It is hardly likely that he ever connected his witness 
by word and by life with the birth of the little new church. 
But he loved it dearly ; and when the day came for the ringing 
of the bell, he knew of it, and rejoiced, and from his high places 


180 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


he tried to keep watch over the threatened Christians and often 
sent pleading messages, asking (not knowing that he need not 
have asked) his friends in the Garden House never to forsake the 
Village of the Reeds. 

That first Sunday of public worship marked by the ringing of 
the bell was a day of holy joy. The bell had been rung once 
before for the first gathering together of a group of new disciples, 
and the man with the sandal had not appeared. Now it was to 
be rung in the presence of a large congregation gathered from the 
villages round about, and the ringing was to be an open challenge 
to the powers of darkness. Many people from those villages 
crowded under the mat-awning that day and waited in breathless 
expectation. Then someone pointed to the bell, a disc of metal 
hung from a beam, and put a stick into the ringer’s hand, and in 
a tense silence the first blow was struck, and the second and a 
third; and then half a dozen clanging strokes struck with the 
beater’s full strength. 

“‘ Where is the man with the sandal ? ”’ 

The words were cried aloud as the last stroke ceased to vibrate, 
and the crowd drew a long breath. 

“Where ? Oh, where ? ”’ 

It was a moment that many a man would have given a lifetime 
to experience. ‘‘ Where? Oh, where?” The air thrilled with 
the question ; an old man dashed the water from his eyes. 

Then the crowd burst into a laugh, and the answer was shouted 
like a challenge : 

“ The Lord is our light and our salvation, whom shall we fear ? 
The Lord is the strength of our life, of whom shall we be afraid ? ” 

Where then were the griefs of the past months? They were 
forgotten : they were thistledown on the wind. It is not persecu- 
tion that can hurt the least and the frailest church, and the 
workers in the Village of the Reeds learned to fear adversity far 
less than prosperity. ‘‘ The sun hath looked upon me’’; there is 
peril there. “The solemn shadow of Thy cross is better than 
the sun.” 

And somewhere up in the mountains that looked down upon 
that day of Jubilate, Raj, knowing of it, stood and thought, and 
longed with a mighty longing to sit just once on the crowded 
floor with the friends of his boyhood, and learn the right tunes 
for these new songs that they were singing, the songs he, too, 
sang so often up in his caves to his own queer tunes. But it 
could never be, and on Sundays the thought of Raj and Chotu 
was touched by a greater wistfulness than even on other days. 
How did they spend the day? Had they any Sunday at all? 


JUBILATE 181 


Did they even know it was Sunday? Answer came to such 
questions. For one Sunday a farmer found them among the 
mountains above the Village of the Reeds. Raj was sitting with 
his back against a great rock, his gun across his knees, his hymn- 
book in his hands, and another tucked under his arm. He was 
singing at the top of his voice. 

‘‘ Brother, brother,” said the farmer alarmed. “ Sing softly.” 

“But why ?”’ said Raj. ‘‘The man-hunters do not hunt on 
Sunday.” 

‘There are only three of us here,” said the farmer, meaning 
only three to scores, if the hunters should appear. 

‘There are four,’ said Chotu, meaning that One invisible was 
there. 

They cooked their food then, and had it together with thank- 
fulness, and Raj told how wonderfully food came, ‘‘ and when it 
does not come, we are learning not to worry.’ The farmer had 
a little rice with him. “See, I have brought you some, even as 
the birds brought it to the prophet. Eat and be happy. God 
has sent it.”” And he told them the story of Elijah and the ravens 
—crows, he called them. He could not remember where it was 
written: “‘ Turn over the leaves of your Bible one by one, and 
you will happen upon it,”’ he said. 

Then as the stars rose, Raj pointing up said, “‘ Look at our 
roof.” And they knelt down and prayed for protection. ‘ Take 
care of us, take care of us, O strong Lord,” said Raj, just before 
he lay down with his books carefully disposed as usual. 

In the morning the farmer, upon returning to the Plains, 
heard of a robbery committed the night before by Raj and Chotu 
on an oil merchant who had been travelling on the road. And 
three days later, when he was up again, the farmer laughed over 
that tale. But Raj did not laugh. He covered his face with his 
hands and groaned. At last he looked up, and stretching his 
right hand above his head and looking up steadfastly through 
the clear sky he said, “‘ God is our witness ’’—and then turning 
to the farmer, ‘‘ Thou also art our witness. Wert thou not here 
with us ? These things are not our deeds.” 

The farmer did not speak, he was startled by the grief he saw 
on Raj’s face. It was unlike Raj to care much what people 
thought, at least so far as the farmer knew, his way was to turn 
bitter thoughts with a laugh. And Raj also was silent. At last 
he spoke: ‘‘ We have deserved it,’ he said in a softened tone. 
“We had noright to escape from the jail. Every time I hear ofa 
new crime charged to us, I feel this is part of my punishment.” 
Then the farmer understood. He was not wise in the wisdom of 


182 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


the Schools, but he knew these words were good. And he 
pondered over the change that had come to Raj, and the things 
that were happening in the Village of the Reeds, and like many 
another who was watching this tale unfold, he wondered with 
a great admiration. 

One evening in thundery weather, some of Raj’s friends who 
were on the mountains saw huge masses of clouds roll up and blot 
out the Plains. But a wind blew from beneath, and the heavy 
masses lifted. Then was discovered a dazzling blue band of sea 
some forty miles distant, a lighthouse like a doll’s ivory knitting- 
needle ; a long ridge of pink sand ; and towns, villages, temples, 
water, fields, roads, shining as if carved in precious stones. 
Trees of darkest myrtle, which opened to show this cameo of 
colour, framed it on either side. They in turn were framed by 
the scarred sides of mountains, iron-grey and black after rain. 
The forest smoked, and a waterfall plunged where a tarn in the 
heights had overflowed. Then the wind that had lifted the cloud 
below rushed through the woods with the sound of mighty wings ; 
the trees bowed before it. Here, then, the dark, the cold, the 
wild: there a lighted and untroubled peace. 

It was like that sometimes when the devices of the crafty were 
disappointed, so that their hands could not perform their enter- 
prise ; and the clouds that had seemed overwhelming were blown 
aside, and a light shone upon the peaceful thoughts of God. 


PART IX 


In the corrupted currents of this world 
Offence’s gilded hand may shove by justice, 
And oft ’tis seen the wicked prize itself 
Buys out the law ; but ’tis not so above ; 
There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell’d 
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults 
To give in evidence. 
HAMLET. 


I rejoice that the wheels of this confused world are rolled, and cogged, and 
driven according as our Lord willeth. Out of whatever airth the wind blow, 
tt will blow us on our Lord. No wind can blow our sails overboard ; because 
Christ’s skill, and honour of His wisdom, ave empawned and laid down at 
the stake for the sea-passengers, that He shall put them safe off His hand on 
the shore, in His Father’s known bounds, our native home ground. 

SAMUEL RUTHERFORD, 
1637. 


CHAPTER I 
IT’S SO BAD FOR THE DEVIL 


UT the story has run on ahead of its date. It goes back 
now to the beginning of Studi’s trial, and to the time when 
Per, with his heart set on living in the forest with the men and 
sharing their risks, had gone from the Garden House, carrying 
food enough for a couple of days, his blanket, his change of clothes; 
and his books. Nothing had been heard of him. He might be 
with the men; for that he was not seen with them by any who 
went up from the Plains, did not prove he was not there. The 
hunted learn to be careful. 

During those six months, the period covered by Studi’s first 
trial in Court, the means taken to coerce the people to trap or to 
betray Raj and Chotu was a turning of justice to wormwood, 
and it roused the people to indignation. They were also kept in 
continual anxiety lest a false case should be brought against one 
or another of the community. They could not always be watch- 
ing the thatched eaves of their little houses lest stolen articles or 
robbers’ tools should be thrust under them. One such tool found 
by Studi in his roof caused alarm among many law-abiding people, 


183 


184 RAJ, BRIGAND. CHIEF 


It was the giant gimlet used by thieves in piercing the mud walls 
of a house. And yet nothing could ever be proved. Before a 
wrong actually happens there is no case. After it happens there 
is no chance. 

But the people bore everything patiently, till a call for one of 
their women sharpened their anxiety about the others. For, one 
night, a young wife was called. Her husband was from home. 
She rose, and was rushing to the well to end her life when the 
neighbours, roused by her cries, hurriedly gathered what money 
they could, to buy the messenger off. 

This enraged the villages. The men brought the women about 
whom they were most anxious to the protection. of the Garden 
House. ‘Is this the Sirkar?” they asked. They were per- 
suaded to believe that indeed it was not the Sirkar. 

Among the most outspoken in denouncing this accumulation 
of false charges, himsa and blackmail was that brave and upright 
officer called Fides by his friends. He had not the remotest 
personal interest in Raj. No one could accuse him of caste bias. 
He did not even belong to the same part of India. But he was 
a gentleman and a sportsman, and had convictions and expressed 
them. Of his feeling upon the subject of Raj, the Garden House 
knew nothing when one day, unexpectedly, he called as a mere 
matter of courtesy. It was soon apparent, however, that he knew 
what was going on, and stood for righteousness, and before long 
Fides, and a little later, as will shortly be told, the courageous 
civilian who, during his short term in office, effectually stopped 
himsa, became strength and cheer to spirits tempted to despair 
about the country. For what cannot even one man do in whom 
burns the white-hot passion of justice ? 

Fides so often suggested Lowell that at last one of his friends 
sent the familiar lines to him : 


They are slaves who fear to speak 

For the fallen and the weak ; 

They are slaves who will not choose 
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, 

Rather than in silence shrink 

From the truth they needs must think : 
They are slaves who dare not be 

In the right with two or three. 


“But why did the men not come in ?”’ said some who looked on 
from the far and peaceful edge of these events and thought that 
Raj and Chotu’s surrender would end the troubles at a stroke. 
The people most nearly concerned were not so sure. Raj and 
Chotu were very unsure. Only those who knew least were sure 


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IT’S SO BAD FOR THE DEVIL 185 


of anything during those days. And everything was so confused 
and hopeless and desperate that who can wonder if the thoughts 
of the hunted men were confused and hopeless and desperate ? 
Day in, day out, they lived in that uneasy place, between the 
devil and the deep sea. 

“ It was pitiful to see Raj, all his happy ways fell from him and 
he would look wildly about—verily it was pitiful,” said Dass. 
He did want to do right ; with many tears and temptations he 
struggled on, and if his decision were wrong, at least he was not 
indifferent. ‘‘On the same day, having seen one working on 
the Sabbath, he said to him: ‘O man, if indeed thou knowest 
what thou doest, thou art blessed; but if thou knowest not, 
thou art accursed, and a transgressor of the law.’ ’’* That word 
in some measure clears Raj. He was breaking the letter of the 
law by staying out. But to come in would be to drag his people 
to destruction. What of the spirit of the law—‘“ Thou shalt love 
thy neighbour as thyself’’? Definitely then, knowing what he 
was doing, he did what he did. The finer virtue of obedience and 
surrender to certain shame and death—his people forbidden to 
defend him—was out of his sight and, if he had seen it, he would 
have said, “It is high: I cannot attain unto it.” And yet he 
might have attained. His story is true to our poor life; it is 
pitched to a lower key than the heavenliest. 

In the midst of sordid misery and much red shame, there 
were frequent raids on the Garden House for Himsa noteeses. 
These were large squares of cardboard upon which Carunia 
printed in English and in the vernacular the following plain 
words : 

Himsa is against the Law of the Sirkar. 

If himsa be done to this man (or woman as the case might be) 
the Sirkar shall be informed of 1t. 

And she signed the notees with her two names, foreign and 
Indian, and pierced its two upper corners, and tied string through 
them, so that the card could be hung up; the people believed in 
it, as if it had been a magic charm. And there is no doubt that 
it acted. Just then such information, by whomsoever given, 
did nothing. But the notees expressed an honest conviction of 
what the Sirkar truly intended to be, in spite of appearances. It 
had a moral value and an influence, and many a grateful recipient 
returned a week or two later to say, “‘ Verily it greatly protected 
us. And my husband’s sister asks for one to hang up in her 
house, and so does my mother-in-law’s brother’s paternal uncle’s 


* An otherwise unrecorded saying of Christ, found in the manuscript 
known as Codex Bezae, after Luke vi. 5. 


186 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


son’ (the exact relationship was always stated). At any rate 
it comforted them, and that was something. 

At last, the day came when the cup of bitterness overflowed ; 
men had been threatened, blackmail had been quite shamelessly 
levied, and, though petitions had been sent to Authority, nothing 
had happened for the relief of the people. (Perhaps those peti- 
tions had never reached their destination. There are ways by 
which such documents can be deflected.) A young married woman 
had been seized, carried off to the police station and kept alone 
among men for many hours. When she was released in the dusk 
of the evening, with a four-mile walk before her, she was told to 
return next day with the information that was required ; “ Else 
we shall shoot thy men and say we shot them by mistake; think- 
ing they were Raj and Chotu.’”’ And the women in panic be- 
sought the elder of the two Englishwomen who were living among 
them, to sleep in one or other of the threatened houses ; which 
she did, spending the night on a mat on the floor with the women 
about her. 

It was then that the men of the villages moved. They poured 
into the Garden House compound, and stood in a solid mass 
under the trees. “‘ They have taken our guns (gun licences had 
been withdrawn from Raj’s caste-folk in that part of the country, 
whether they were related to him or not), but we have our knives ”’ 
(the keen knives used in work upon the palms). It was an ugly 
word and it muttered through the crowd. 

That was an anxious hour. The outlaws were not the question 
now; Raj and Chotu, after all, were merely two poor chased 
figures crossing for a moment the field of the Sirkar’s administra- 
tion. What had so greatly roused these men, by nature so patient, 
was something apart from Raj and Chotu, something whose 
roots ran deep into the nature of things. They stood now, moody, 
or excited ; but quick to respond to a familiar voice, saying over 
and over again in various ways one word: ‘“‘ Be patient a little 
longer. This is not the Sirkar. Help will come.” And it came. 

Just when their patience was wearing thin again, an Indian 
civilian of courage and character was appointed to that distracted 
corner of the country. He came with his ears filled with the tales 
that had stopped the ears of others. He looked through the eyes 
provided and saw nothing but what he was intended to see. But 
he was not satisfied with anything except the truth. Before he 
had been long in the district, he began to feel his way towards it. 
The day that he found it will never be forgotten in the villages. 
It was as though a tap were turned off which had run at full 
cock for months. The himsa stopped, 


THE EYE-WITNESS WRITES A LETTER _ 187 


The relief of the people cannot be expressed. They recognized 
in their new ruler one who carried on the old tradition ; there was 
no more of the talk that leads to mischievous madness. By his 
courageous action—he stood alone in his reading of the situation— 
he quenched the first spark of fire that would have flamed far. 

The bewildered subordinate police commented audibly on 
this sudden turn of affairs. “‘ A week ago it was, ‘ Bully, or be 
bullied,’ now the word has gone forth, ‘ Bully not ; do no himsa.’ 
Hai, brother,’’ and the perplexed one called across the road to 
a brother policeman, ‘‘ Canst thou explain it ?” 

A week or so before, on that same road, an inoffensive old man 
had been brutally knocked about, and crying weakly he had 
staggered to the nearest cover saying over and over, ‘‘ What have 
I done to receive this ?’’ But now he and his kind could walk 
where they would, no man laying hands upon them. So powerful 
to this day is the word, the less than a word, the mere influence 
of the Man in authority. For India asks for king, not figurehead. 

But even under the quietness there was a murmuring of fear. 
“It is too good to last ; it will begin again when he goes away.” 
And when it was as they had feared, the wisdom of the wise old 
stories opened afresh: the hydra’s central head was immortal ; 
as for others, cut off one, and two appeared. But the story is 
brave every way. The sprouting of the double heads was stopped. 
The immortal head was buried under tons of rock. When will 
arise for India her Hercules, her Iolaus? Or will the stables 
never be cleansed till One comes in righteousness and turns the 
two rivers of justice and mercy through the stalls? But it is 
wonderful what a single man can do who has no thought of him- 
self ; and when people came to the Garden House to look at the 
photograph of an English civilian which hangs in the chief room 
of the house, and as they stood before it, with some grateful 
story on their lips of a swift deed that saved a homestead from 
destruction, Carunia would recall a saying of his spoken when 
she had rather wished that the Christians at least would turn the 
other cheek to the smiter: ‘‘ But it’s so bad for the devil,’ he 
said (to let him win every time he meant). “It’s so bad for the 
devil.”  (F. R. Hemineway, I.C.S.) 


CHAPTER II 


THE EYE-WITNESS WRITES A LETTER 


IT was exceedingly bad for the devil when he got his own way 
with a poor, easily terrified lad, who was required to give evidence 
about the murder of another spy sent up to waylay Raj and 


188 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


decoy him down to rob. ‘“ After they had killed him,” said the 
boy glibly—he had described exactly how the killing was accom- 
plished—‘‘ Chotu wanted to shoot me lest I should tell. But Raj 
said, ‘ Let him go, he is only a boy!’”’ So to the lightest touch 
the story was credible. 

The spy who had been killed was a thief, and had been caught. 
thieving ; but he had promised to get Raj in, had been sent up 
the mountains to do so. He was, if possible, to entice them to 
rob with him, and then betray them. Soon the bazaars were 
full of a tale about a quarrel between that thief and his fellow- 
thieves by the Black Water under the mountain, and of a shoot- 
ing that followed. The mother of the dead man went rushing 
down the main street of her village tearing her streaming hair, 
and there was a hurried consultation within closed doors—but, 
even so, that talk escaped——followed by a call to the unfortunate 
boy. 

It was just before this that Dass gave a lift to some police 
constables, who were trudging back after going to meet the 
expected Raj and Chotu and the spy at the appointed rendez- 
vous. Naturally he heard all about the plan that had failed. 
He knew about many similar plans, as indeed did most people ; 
for it happened that the man to whom they were confided by 
their originator was a close friend of Raj and Chotu, and had 
beautiful ways of sending useful information to the forest by 
way of the bazaars. Dass knew, everybody knew, how Raj met 
such proposals. For even if he were robbing, as some perplexed 
people had begun to believe, everyone knew that he would never 
condescend to common thieving with men who broke into houses 
in the dark. So the present fiasco was no surprise. And the 
villages had been waiting with interest for the turning over of 
the next page of this sometimes dramatic story-book. 

And the next had been a flaring picture, with high lights, 
black shadows, a pool of blood, and other unpleasant matters. 
And in an evil house that day, huddled up like a spider enveloped 
in her own foul web, Poi, the man of bones, crouched and shud- 
dered in his misery. For the dead spy was bound to him by 
many close ties. So Poi had furnished the bones after all. Thus 
grind those mills that grind exceeding small. 

“And now the Great has arrived in his car. What honours 
the village enjoys! Now he is duly inspecting the corpse. Now 
he is regarding it thus—(gravity sits on the face of the narrator, 
knitted brows, disgusted mouth). Now there is much con- 
versation. Now he is departing.” Nobody seemed to regret the 
corpse, except the wild-haired mother and Poi and men of his 


THE EYE-WITNESS WRITES A LETTER _ 189 


kind. The people generally bore the loss with equanimity. They 
have a proverb about such an one, “ He is a bandicoot’”’ (a 
bandicoot is a large and peculiarly odious rat) ‘“‘ who has seen 
many days.” 

Hardly had the dust raised by the car settled down on the 
village street, and long before the dust of talk had settled, a 
message came to the Garden House, sent by the leading Hindus. 
That Raj was a Christian did not seem to make them feel any 
the less keen that he should have fair play ; indeed, all through 
that year the finest element in men of all creeds came to the 
surface where Raj was concerned. His story pierced to the 
hearts of men. 

“The boy who was compelled to say that Raj did that deed 
is in danger,” was the message the Hindus sent, “‘ for he has 
repented and, being much agitated at the result of his lie, is now 
telling the truth. We beseech a shelter for him. He is anxious 
to go with you to the Great, to whom he was caused to lie, and 
confess it.” 

But before an answer could be sent back they had hurried him 
over the borders to the Native State, in their pity that so young 
: boy should be in such peril. In due time that boy wrote a 
etter : 

“A month ago Raj and Chotu killed a robber, so you will 
have heard. About that affair I was anxious to tell you direct. 
I am anxious to tell you about the getting of the deposition. 
But if I come and see you, himsa will be, so I write by letter.” 

In brief, he wrote as follows: ‘‘ About the above murder, I 
was sent for next morning. I said, ‘I do not know.’ 

““Shall I do himsa to you, or will you give a deposition 
according to my word ?’ said one. 

“ To that I, thinking of some who formerly had needles stuck 
in the quick of the nails, and of one or two who had forced into 
their mouths that which produces madness, fearing such would 
be done to me, gave the deposition. I was given twenty-five 
rupees.” 

After writing out the deposition, which gives the details of 
the murder which he, the eye-witness, had “‘ seen ’’ committed 
by Raj, he ends the letter thus: ‘“‘ Now the reason I write this is 
because it (the deposition), which can cause a man to be put to 
death, is a great lie. My mind being distressed, I write.” 

Hardly believing that this could be, Carunia read the letter 
again from the first word to the last. ‘‘ He is willing, as he said 
before, to come to you if you will take him to the Great,” said 
the boy’s messenger, ‘‘It is very unsafe for him, I hardly like 


190 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


to tell you he is willing. But he is ashamed of the lie, and wants 
to confess it to him whom he deceived, and he says he will not 
be afraid if only you will take him.” 

From that time on, to have to do with Raj meant to move in 
a room whose shutters were shut, and from whose furniture 
black threads were fastened that went every way. And to touch 
even one might cause any kind of distress. But some instinct, 
a kind of sixth sense, warned; or a light was let into the room 
when it seemed impossible to walk at all without touching one 
of those threads. 

“The secret of a joyful life is to live dangerously,” said San- 
derson of Oundle to his boys, quoting Nietzsche in letter, if not 
in spirit. And ‘“‘ we perish if we cease from prayer,” he said. 
Joyful is hardly the adjective those days would have chosen ; 
but for all that there would have been no joy in a refusal of the 
danger. And true indeed was it then, as it is ever, to cease from 
prayer is to perish. 

And from this time, too, there was a certain awful looking on 
to the end; and, as more and more the machinations of this 
underworld appeared, a fear for men who, from their guarded 
places, sinned against the helpless, came upon all who watched. 
What, oh what, must the day of reckoning be? Alice Meynell 
spoke then with her deep word: 


“ A riddling world !’’ one cried. 
‘Tf pangs must be, would God that they were sent 
To the impure, the cruel, and passed aside 
The holy innocent ! ’* 


“Buti,” Ab no;-no; no! 
Not the clean heart transpierced ; not tears that fall 
For a child’s agony ; nor a martyr’s woe; 
Not these, not these appall. 


“*Not docile motherhood, 
Dutiful, frequent, closed in all distress ; 
Not shedding of the unoffending blood ; 
Not little joy grown less ; 


“Not all-benign old age 
With dotage mocked; not gallantry that faints 
And still pursues; not the vile heritage 
Of sin’s disease in saints; 


‘“ Not these defeat the mind, 
For great is that abjection, and august 
That irony. Submissive, we shall find 
A splendour in that dust. 


THE NOTEES 191 


‘* Not these puzzle the will. 
Not these the yet unanswered question urge. 
But the unjust stricken ; but the hands that kill 
Lopped ; but the merited scourge ; 


** The sensualist at fast ; 
The merciless felled ; the liar in his snares ; 
The cowardice of my judgment sees, aghast, 
The flail, the chaff, the tares.”* 


CHAPTER III 
THE NOTEES 


THE string held at too tight tension snaps. Something would 
have snapped then and often thereafter, if it had not been for 
that ever blessed will o’ the wisp, who dances lightly over the 
swamps of life and misleads nobody but fools. Raj was one of 
those big benevolent men who have no room for petty spites. 
He had dozens of friends among the police, “‘ good fellows, not 
their fault they are folees,’’ he would say tolerantly, and except 
for the downright cruel or false, he had no hard words or thoughts. 
When he heard that he had had the honour of providing an 
excellent supper for a police officer, he laughed his hilarious 
laugh, and the joke ran far over the mountains, and set many a 
little house laughing too. 

This officer was stationed at the foot of the hills with a posse 
of police, whose duty it was to hunt for the outlaws, or waylay 
them as they sauntered down to the villages. But Raj had as 
intimate a knowledge of who was where as had any concerned in 
catching him. He had friends in two Native States as well as in 
British India, and several of them were friends of the officers 
responsible for the various moves that were made in those days, 
so he was rarely at a loss in making the swift changes demanded 
by his way of life. 

He went out shooting now as if that particular posse were of 
no account. One day a fine sambhur fell to his gun. He cut 
off what he required for himself and Chotu, and left the rest for 
the poor man who brought rice. The poor man took it down, 
and was about to have it prepared for the family pot, when he 
remembered that the savour of that pot might penetrate to the 
officer near by, so he took him a goodly share, remarking truth- 
fully that he had found it in the forest and supposed that it was 
Raj again. So everyone was pleased, the officer, who liked 
venison, and before whose vision floated bright if elusive dreams 


192 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


of kudos; the faithful poor man, who felt he had secured that 
officer's favour, a very great matter to a man in his circum- 
stances; Raj, who threw back his head and laughed a long 
laugh when the poor man told him about it: “To think we 
should provide a good supper for Aim!’’ Everyone indeed was 
satisfied except the Forest Officer ; that venison had a six months’ 
sentence tacked on to it. But what could he do? He could 
hardly arraign Law. So all went well. 

But where was Per? He was not with the men. That was 
by this time evident. Dura of the far country, and a very fine 
older man, and Dass, and others who had proved Raj true and 
believed in him, kept in touch in various ways. Not one of this 
group of men was of Raj’s caste, nor were any two of them of 
the same caste. What made them care so much? Such un- 
selfish interest is not usual in any caste-bound part of India, 
unless a man be a great and noted saint. But men of all castes 
loved Raj and gathered tidings of him as he passed from place 
to place. And yet mystery must always hang over a man who 
is an outlaw. Be he as merry-hearted as old King Cole, he walks 
in a mist, and the winds that blow it aside do not blow every day. 

And now the mist had gathered round Per too. 

Presently there was a glimpse of the two men, Raj and Chotu, 
earnestly writing. For the word had reached them, “‘ Lo, three 
of the Great are coming to camp among us”’ ; and Raj had said 
to Chotu, “‘ Come, let us write a notees, and fasten it up in the 
town, one shall be near the folees station, the other on the trunk 
of a tree where all pass and all may read. The Great are sure to 
hear of it.” 

It was a bold idea, and suited them exactly. They wrote that 
notees laboriously, and made two clear copies which they fastened 
up in two conspicuous places in the town where the Great had 
pitched their tents under the mango trees. The air was thick 
with murder talk then, and it was being said that they stalked 
the police with intent to kill, so they began : 

“ After we left the jail we could have killed, if we had wished 
to do so, very many men. We, knowing it is sin to kill, have 
been quiet. It is falsely said that we kill. It is falsely said that 
we rob. What we (formerly) robbed from the rich we gave to 
the poor. Now we rob no man. 

‘“‘ While we are living thus without sinning, the folees putting 
these false charges upon us, are making how many endeavours to 
shoot us. Let this be known to the chief men of this town, and 
let them make these matters known to the Great.” 

Then they told of the offences with which they were charged, 


THE NOTEES 193 


and of how two men had been sent up to make friends with them 
and then find means to disable or drug them. The men sent up 
told them they were threatened with punishment if they failed 
to do this. “And we earnestly beseech the chief men of the 
town, who know of our innocence, to intercede for us, that it may 
be believed we are not robbing,” were the last words of the notees. 

There was one sentence that made their friends anxious. Raj 
gave fair warning to a certain spy that, if he persisted in haunting 
them, he would be summarily dealt with. But when Raj had 
his chance with that man and could have slain him offhand, he 
met him with affection and forgiveness. 

This writing was read by all but those for whom it was specially 
intended. The town was full of talk about it; but the talk was 
in undertones. The three Great, who held their inquiries in that 
town, heard nothing till too late to retrieve the notice; for it 
was, of course, immediately torn down. And when one of the 
three did hear and did his best to track it to its source, he was 
told that the notice was doubtless the work of a disgruntled 
subordinate policeman. 

But the people knew better, and they knew too that Raj was 
not stalking the police anywhere at any time, with any intent to 
kill. For he was a famous stalker. From his boyhood he had 
practised stalking the herons that fished in the wide flats of the 
rice fields. No bird is harder to approach, or needs a swifter 
stroke, if it is to be killed by hand; but time and again Raj, 
approaching it warily from behind as it fished on the wide rice 
flats, slashed the head off at a stroke with his curved knife, a 
horrid tale, but significant. No one knew better than his foes 
that, had he chosen, he could have turned the chase. It was this 
that lent point to his indignant remonstrance when clumsy 
murders were attributed to him. If he had wanted to kill, he 
would have killed as an artist, not a bad-tempered fool. 

The chief men, to whom all this was, of course, well known, 
were exercised in mind. To take the truth to Authority would 
lead to trouble later on. But some eighteen of them discussed 
it; and at last, fortified by an urgent message from Carunia 
who told them not to fear, for the Great wanted the truth, they 
decided to goin a body. To their earnest appeal that she would 
tell it instead, she could only say that she had, but had failed. 
She did not tell them, though it was true, that she had been as a 
bird that beats its wings against a pane of glass. They had a 
better chance, ‘‘ Fear not,’ she said. ‘‘ How can the Great 
know the truth if only one voice tell it?’’ So the eighteen 
arranged a day, 


N 


194 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Meanwhile, Raj and Chotu hopefully hovered near the town, 
so that if they heard of the chief men going to the Great, and if 
those powerful people, in whose hands their fate lay, showed any 
sign of relenting, they might know of it at once. One night they 
were on the road leading out of the town when two carts passed 
them. The drivers were smoking the rank cigar of the country, 
and as Raj badly wanted a smoke he stopped the first cart. The 
other stopped too, and the occupants of both, the two brides 
and grooms and the guests of a double wedding in the town, 
disembarked and accosted Raj, who salaamed to them all. 

‘But we heard thou wert robbing,” they said, not altogether 
comfortable, for they were heavily jewelled. 

“You have nothing to fear from us,” said Raj, “ but if you 
meet our imitators you will have much to fear. Let us see you 
safely home.” 

It was like old times, Raj and Chotu walked beside the carts 
for four miles to the village for which the wedding-party was 
bound, passing on their way—and this spiced that pleasant hour 
—not far from the tents of the Great. And they smoked luxuri- 
ously. 

It was while those tents were standing that Carunia, walking 
with some women a little way behind two or three village men, 
heard repeated fairly correctly all that Authority had said to 
her and all that she had said in reply, on that memorable morn- 
ing in the quiet English drawing-room, when the “ Pilgrims’ 
Chorus ”’ had sounded in her ears. 

“ What talk is this ? ’’ she said to the men. 

“Ts it not true talk? It was told at a dinner.” 

“ At a dinner ? ”’ 

“ But verily. By him, to his wife, and he said 

“Nay, but I do not wish to hear. It is unfitting that such 
talk should be in the villages.” 

“T have been labouring with his cook,’’ was the simple reply. 
“For two hours have I laboured. I have now thoroughly con- 
veyed the truth to him. And it may be, when upon a propitious 
occasion he has pleased his master with an excellent dinner, 
opportunity may be to tell it to his mistress, and she will tell it 
to her lord. Thus, as it were of itself, the truth will reach him.” 

Whoso knows India will catch the authentic note. 

And now the eighteen sent a message. ‘‘ We are almost 
immediately going all together, to lay the truth before the 
Great.” 

But the Great had other work to do. They had waited as 
long as they saw fit. Before that kindly leisurely crowd had 


33 





GO AND WATCH 195 


loitered along the road to the camp, they had gone; and their 
servants were busy taking down the tents. 


CHAPTER IV 
GO AND WATCH 


THEN up through the miles of forest went Raj; that hope dead, 
what use in waiting? Up over the shoulder of the scarred 
mountain, in whose cracks and seams low trees make little green 
waterfalls, he and Chotu walked despondently. On the steep 
face of that mountain, a crag, like a man’s hand held upright, 
offers such a magnificent sentry-post that, standing there un- 
seen from any point of view, Raj could command the whole 
plain. They stood there awhile looking longingly for the coming 
of a friend. Raj was missing Per, no message had come from 
him ; but Raj knew that there was no forgetting, no misdoubting ; 
that battle need never be fought again. And now in his need 
another strong friend was given. 

In the Native States lived a brave and influential man; he 
had read about Raj’s conversion in the newspaper; for, as 
though to set Raj as a target for devils and evil men, that fact 
had been chronicled far and wide by both the English and ver- 
nacular Press. This man was interested, and had long desired 
an opportunity of verifying the stories that were everywhere. 
Was Raj a hypocrite of hypocrites, or was he a true man ? 

One day, shortly after Raj and Chotu had crossed the boundary- 
line and found themselves in Native State territory, this man’s 
servants told him that they had heard that the outlaws were 
somewhere on the mountains near his (their master’s) estate. 

“Go then,”’ he answered, ‘‘ go and watch them. Let them 
not know they are being watched. Watch every movement, 
especially of the man Raj, and come back to me and report.” 

Raj had brought up rice enough to last for some little time, 
and game was plentiful in those rich forests. The foresters who 
had known him in old days were unpurchasable. Had he not 
helped them to preserve the Sirkar’s goods? The shepherds 
knew him. Had he not helped to guard their flocks ? And now 
that he was back among them two traditions held the field: one 
that he was most dangerous, the other that he was harmless, and 
both, of course, served to protect him. It were well to leave 
dangerous men alone: why hurt a harmless man? So both ways 
Raj was helped. For by establishing a lie about the Red Tiger’s 
fierceness, Raj’s chief hunters had overreached themselves and 


196 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


planted a hedge round him. One day a policeman met Per on 
the mountains. ‘‘ We poor underlings are sent to do this terribly 
dangerous thing,’ he said to Per, “‘and have not we also our 
wives and families and our own lives to consider ? Why should 
we have to run into a wild beast’s jaws?’’ And then, using 
every honorific he could command, he besought Per, should he 
meet him, to beseech the honourable the Maharajah to descend 
and deliver himself into the humble hands of his slave who would 
with all due respect convey him back to captivity. As for the 
other fence, the angels kept it in good repair. 

And now, in and out among the people whom Raj met upon 
the mountains, there were men who watched and listened. They 
drew near in the evenings when the camp fire was lighted by a 
rock, and hunters and shepherds gathered round it and sang 
songs and told stories; at such times that which is in a man 
shows its head for good or ill. They heard the rollicking laugh, 
the good-natured chaffing, the ordinary simple everyday talk of 
a man who had nothing to hide, except his place of refuge. They 
saw, too, the goatskin bag pulled out, and listened as Raj read 
from his beloved books, and they often heard him sing and chant 
lyrics and songs. Then they saw the books put away and the 
bag pushed carefully under whatever rough pillow Raj had, and 
awed and touched they saw him kneel, and heard his petitions, 
direct, simple as a child’s. And all this they told to their master. 

Then that man made up his mind, blame him who will, that 
to help Raj was no sin; and he sent him ammunition, “for a 
man must live,’’ he said, “‘ and how can he live if he cannot shoot 
game? Can he live on bare rice ? ”’ 

Dura had heard of this man, and one day went to see him. 
There was some cautious by-play of conversation, for each wanted 
to be sure of the other before he showed his thought. But at 
last they trusted each other, and Dura told of his experiences in 
British India, and the Christian man told of his servants’ reports, 
and a little group of friends grew up round Raj, so that he was 
wonderfully cared for and, in some measure at least, prepared 
for the heavy trouble that was soon to come upon him. 


CHAPTER V 
INSTANS TYRANNUS 


AMONG the little country towns that lie upon the Plains is one 
which is divided into two parts by a river that flows over a wide 
sandy bed. On the one side of the river are orderly Moslem 


INSTANS TYRANNUS 197 


streets, and a mosque whose austere lines and pure whiteness 
strike the eye in a land almost wholly Hindu. On the other side 
of the river there is a small stone temple buried in the darkness 
of trees and surrounded by its old high wall; the Hindu houses 
related to it hardly take the trouble to make streets. From a 
distance, especially in the light of evening, the scene is almost 
Egyptian in expression, for from the tawny land behind the 
town three little hills stand up like pyramids. In the higher of 
these curious abrupt little hills, the Great Pyramid, someone 
lately called it, Raj once spent a week. From its bare sides and 
summit he could see the vast circle of the Plains where he was 
reported to be carrying on such astonishing activities. Not a 
week but carried its tale. Far and near he and his notorious 
band were at work, so the world said, and here he was with his 
one faithful follower, and one other who brought up food. ‘“ He 
was often perplexed, and often sad, but sometimes he would 
cheer up and laugh, for he knew there must come an end to it,” 
is all that has come to his friends from that week on the pyramid. 

One early morning, shortly after Raj and Chotu’s peaceful 
stay in the forest, the town turned out into the streets to talk of 
a crime committed in the dark; a policeman had been shot in 
his sleep. The news was scattered swiftly to the villages all 
round. The Garden Village heard the tale at once, and knew, 
as every other village knew, that the crime would be charged to 
Raj. ‘‘ Does he not do everything everywhere ? ”’ said the people. 
“Wait and see. It will certainly be so.’ And when it was 
known, as it soon was, that in very truth Raj had been in the 
town that night, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind; Raj 
would be named as the guilty man. 

But a caste man who had business there, chanced to be in the 
town that day, and he forsook the crowds in the streets and 
found his way to the little knot of men who stood near the house 
in whose verandah the wounded man was lying. An hour later 
every house within reach had heard the tale : 

‘“‘ They had summoned the Great by the wire, hastily he had 
come. At a little distance from the verandah stood he, and he 
gnawed his fingers for vexation of spirit. And his officer inquired 
of the wounded policeman, who answered again and again that 
he knew nothing about the matter, being asleep and wakened 
by the shot in his body. Thus said he.” 

Others carried the same tale. Later there was another 
which was, of course, rapidly and efficiently broadcasted: 
“The dying policeman has signed a deposition stating that 
he saw Raj and Chotu, and that Raj shot him; he has 


198 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


signed the deposition. Heis dying. ... Heis dead.’’ Whether 
or not it was true that such a deposition had been signed, no one, 
of course, outside the police department, knew for certain. But 
as within a day or two the Press reported the crimeas Raj’s work, 
and the people were told that he had done it, and in the end the 
official summing up of Raj was “a desperate criminal to whom 
several murders may be safely ascribed,’ there seems little 
reason to doubt that the evidence required to prove him so had 
somehow been furnished. And the Garden House was left with 
the two tales, one, the earlier, mere hearsay useless in a Court of 
law, the other, apparently evidence of the utmost value. 

No one who had followed Raj so far could see him killing a 
sleeping man, but the fogs of surmise perplexed what, where he 
was concerned, had been plain before, and some began to fear 
lest Raj, caught in a scuffle, was after all responsible for that 
shot. It was a strange time. In countries scattered over the 
face of the earth people had prayed, “‘ Let Thy loving Spirit 
lead him forth into the land of righteousness.’’ Could this lead- 
ing into the land of foul suspicion be the answer to that prayer ? 
For a season, whose travail need not be recalled, the only word 
that came was Wait. ‘‘ My soul, wait thou only upon God, for 
my expectation is from Him.’ And then comfort came, as com- 
fort does, walking softly by unexpected and unsought paths. 

A Government servant, whose duty had required him to be 
near the wounded policeman, had occasion to visit the Garden 
House, and when the talk turned to that shooting, as all talk 
appeared to do at that time, he said quietly that he, for one, was 
assured of Raj’s innocence, not only because such a cowardly 
act was unlike all that was known of Raj, but because he had 
heard what the dying man had said when he was first questioned. 

He was asked if he would be willing to come forward and say 
so in fact, should Raj be arrested and tried for his life. He did 
not refuse. He could not have refused; but India will under- 
stand what lay in his reluctant, “I have a wife and children.” 
It was well for him and for that wife and those children that Raj 
was not called to stand at any earthly bar. Yet another con- 
firmation was granted;. for another official, whose position 
however sealed his lips, had heard the wounded policeman speak. 
And at last, but too late to help Raj, a near relative of the 
murdered man told, but privately lest trouble should befall him, 
just what the poor man had said to him in his last hours as truth 
before God. ‘I know nothing,” he had said, as he had said at 
first, ‘ I never saw Raj.” 

Meanwhile something more, though only a little, had become 


INSTANS TYRANNUS 199 


generally known, Raj and Chotu had visited that country town 
that night because a friend who lived there had invited them. 
They were leaving the town before dawn when a message reached 
them—‘“ So-and-so has left a bundle on the verandah and it 
contains money. Hehasforgottenit. Nooneisinsight.” “‘ We 
have not come down to rob,” had been Raj’s answer to that, and 
he had marched off. Half a dozen friends who were seeing him 
to the hills were with him. No one knew where he was now. 

But Dass found him. He had gone to the Valley of the Rosy 
Rocks and, as Dass crossed the waste land leading up to the 
valley, he saw Raj by a great boulder on the open hill-side. Its 
black and yellow-ochre colouring made it distinguishable from 
some distance, and from it Raj could see the approaches to his 
valley and welcome friends or disappear from foes. He welcomed 
Dass now. 

But he was in the deepest dejection. He knew, of course, that 
the crime would be laid to his door. He knew it would be 
“proved.” And yet he did not know who shot the policeman. 
There had been a scrimmage, he said, as he and Chotu were 
leaving the town. He and Chotu had hurried off. He did not 
know any more. “ God is our witness,” he said. 

He had said it before. The word he used is from the Sanscrit 
and means eye-witness, witness in Court. There by the rock Raj 
stood, and, with the gesture Dass knew well, he raised his right 
hand to heaven and, looking up, said most solemnly, ‘‘ God is 
our Eye-witness,”’ 

“ Now read,” was his next word, and he pulled out his Bible 
and opened at the fifteenth Psalm : 

“ Lord, who shall abide in Thy tabernacle ? Who shall dwell in 
Thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteous- 
ness, and speaketh the truth in Is heart.” 

And then the three men knelt down, and Raj called upon the 
Lord in his distress. 

And after that Dass came back, assured in mind that, what- 
ever had happened, Raj was clear. But that he would ever be 
able to prove his innocence he did not for one moment think. 
Nor did anyone. 

And this told on Raj; he yielded to discouragement, feeling 
hemmed in on all sides, and very hard pursued. What, after all, 
if he had shot the man ? Would it have been so fearful a sin ? 
Who had broken his leg ? twisted his ankle ? flung him trussed- 
up in that horrible knot of torment into the cart? Was it not 
by the order of the police ? If he turned on them, would it be 
such a deadly sin? But he had not. No; but if he had? 


200 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And this was the hour of his peril, and he rose up and fled. 

But whither? Far away from the smoothly flowing stream 
was a house where his God was worshipped. Straight to that 
house he and Chotu went now. They arrived there weary, dis- 
hevelled, disheartened. ‘‘ The first thing the children asked for 
was soap, and the second thing was a Bible,” wrote their hosts 
(their Bible had been lost in the swift journey) ; the letter might 
have been to any anxious mother about any sick children. 
“They are very eager that their mother should know that all is 
well with them, and they are longing for a letter.” 

Quickly and with thankfulness that letter was written. It was 
the first time the men had been where they could be taught and 
helped, and might it not be the first step towards what had 
always been the highest hope, even the land of righteousness ? 
“TI know the thoughts that I think towards you, thoughts of 
peace and not of evil to give you an expected end ’’—were the 
peaceful words to be fulfilled ? ‘‘ They are reaching out to the 
Great Father, and He will see their desire and meet them and 
teach them,” was their hosts’ word in writing to another friend. 
But the letter telling of the children’s well-being had travelled 
for over a week, and the reply which urged them to wait till 
Carunia could communicate more directly with them must also 
travel by circuitous ways, and it was strangely delayed. It 
arrived just after the departure of the two who had so longingly 
watched for it. 

When God is in charge, can things go wrong? Is there such 
a word as “ accident ’’ as regards a matter which has been com- 
mitted to Him? The day came when that delay appeared as 
the work of angels. Raj and Chotu had been tracked. The net 
was thrown when they slipped through the meshes and vanished 
—the word shows the manner of that disappearance. They were 
there one moment, happy, grateful ; gone the next, and without 
a word of thanks or of farewell. 

A poisoned egg had been given to them by an unknown hand. 
There was only the smallest pin-prick in the shell, but they 
recognised it for a sign. They knew then that they had been 
tracked, and that not only they, but also their brave and generous 
hosts, were in the utmost danger. They did not stop to speak 
a word of thanks. With the instinct of wild creatures of the 
woods, made wise by sharp experience, they melted into the 
forest. 

To the end they remembered and blessed those friends, who 
plucked them forth out of the miry clay and set them on their 
feet. “‘ They saved us from despair,” said Raj. 


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SUSPENSE, RELIEF 201 


But how strange it all was, this malevolence of hate, this 
determination to ruin the men, body and soul. Behind the few 
human beings who darkened the understanding of those above 
them, behind all human agencies stood one, the adversary. Read 
thus, Browning’s poem, ‘“‘ Instans Tyrannus,” reads true. 


CHAPTER VI 
SUSPENSE, RELIEF 


CAN suspense be put into a book? Put it in, with any- 
thing of the power of real life, and the reader flies to the last 
page. Perhaps there is enough in real life; in a book it is 
intolerable. 

But the story was full of it. The little stories of comfort did 
not always come in just the most painful moments, though 
indeed they often did. There were hours that are nightmares 
to look back upon, And now what had become of Per? Nota 
word of him reached his friends, not a whisper of him. 

Per had known when he set forth that he was attempting a 
very dangerous thing; for deeds were being done at that time 
which would not be credited now that the chase is over. No 
one outside knew of the anxiety, for to make any kind of public 
inquiry might have led to worse trouble. Per’s wife, who was 
not in India, wrote begging for news of him. There was none 
to give her. 

At last a wreck of a man, gaunt as a shadow, appeared at the 
Garden House. He had never reached Raj and Chotu. He had 
broken down on the way ; a fever had seized him, and withered 
him up. At first he had not written because he could not. Later 
he feared lest his absence had stirred suspicion, and when sus- 
picions are about, the less written the better. So, hardly 
realizing how sharp the fear about him was, he lay low in a 
silent house till he could travel. And now here he was, a man 
who staggered when he tried to stand, but all quick with desire 
to try again. 

And as soon as he could walk he was in the forest, and he found 
Raj and Chotu; and his heart melted with love and awe as he 
heard of how they had been succoured through the weeks. 
Suspense and relief; anxiety that sat like a familiar; delight, 
pure dancing, shining joy ; what a vivid thing life can be! 

An hour of deepest interest was spent in hearing of the death 
of the police-spy beloved by Poi, the man of bones. 

The first bazaar rumour was partly true, but it ran into fiction 


202 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


towards the end, the spy’s death was not by the Black Water, 
but on the borders of the wood. 

He had found Raj and Chotu, and tried to lure them down to 
rob, but that had failed. Apart from his determination not to 
rob, Raj was by this time too well aware of the snare set by a 
packet of cartridges to be caught by it. Not that he refused the 
ammunition. He accepted it all with a cheerful chuckle, and 
there were weeks when the order that every man of Raj’s caste 
in the district near the mountains should return his gun and 
any ammunition he possessed, did Raj little harm, for the Sirkar 
considerately supplied all he required free of cost. 

The spy, however, was not troubled by Raj and Chotu’s 
refusal to walk into his trap. He had two strings to his bow. 
He confessed that he had been robbing and was wanted by the 
police, he had everything to fear if he went back to his village, 
but if only he might stay with Raj, he would not rob any more. 
And his painted words appealed to Raj, who had sheltered more 
than one who professed to wish to live straight. Not that he 
was fond of the man. He had known him of old, knew how bad 
he was, but then Raj too had been bad—“ Go down and get some 
food,” he said, ‘“‘ but go by the other path, for the polees may be 
watching this one, and thou wilt fall into their hands. Go, we 
shall wait for thee here.’’ And the spy went. 

But, unknown to him, a posse of police were watching the 
other path, for they knew that Raj was near, and though they 
did not care to venture into the wood they were ready enough 
to wait near by in the hope of a capture. 

Down the path ran the spy, and Raj and Chotu waited on the 
rocks a little way above. Suddenly they heard shouts followed 
by a gun shot. It was a moonlight night, and the wood was 
splashed with pools of light where the trees parted overhead, 
but they could see nothing, and did not wait to try to see. Up 
the hill they raced, wondering what had happened. And they 
knew nothing more till the tale came up of the spy found shot 
and the inquest, and the evidence given that made them the 
killers of another man sent in search of them. 

“But we had no hand in that killing,” said Raj thankfully. 
Thankfully, for he had not forgotten Undu’s horrified eyes when, 
hoist with his own petard, Undu felt the drugged cup at his 
mouth. Chotu was true to Raj, he would not deceive him, but 
he had never professed even to want to keep his hands off such 
men’s throats, and Raj had a feeling sometimes that he would 
not be able to hold him in, if a terrific temptation—a betrayal, 
for example—came suddenly upon him. ‘‘ They must have 


JOTHI, THE TAVERN KEEPER 203 


mistaken the poor wretch for me,” he explained to Per as 
they discussed the killing. ‘It is not the first time it has 
happened, and they have orders to shoot at sight.’”’ Apparently 
the startled spy had reacted to the shouts in the one way natural 
to him, he may not have even known that the men who shouted 
were police and, for the moment, his friends. 

Per was too much weakened by his illness to share Raj and 
Chotu’s hazards and quick marches through difficult mountain- 
tracks and thorny thickets, so he could not stay and teach them ; 
he could only shadow them, meeting them frequently and watch- 
ing over them ; he must be content with that. 

But he had been willing, more than willing, for the other, the 
sacrificial life. And not till that little family was reunited, and 
his friends saw the father with his children, did they quite realize 
what he had laid on the altar that night when he said, “ Yes, 
Lord.” 

Sometimes from woods which look dark from the outer edge 
warblings and trills flow out in clear ripples and upspringings 
of delight. If from these pages, as from a record responsive to 
a touch, there could come forth the songs that broke through 
the story again and again, it might be reviving to spirits almost 
tired of the reiterated trouble, the oppression of the enemy that 
makes for heavy going. But words cannot capture that any 
more than they can capture the mystery of music, or colour, or 
any other of the golden things of life. 


CHAPTER VII 
JOTHI, THE TAVERN KEEPER 


“Whence shall thy patience be crowned 1f thou meet with no 
adversity ?”’ 


ADVERSITY sharp and swift met Jothi, the tavern keeper, one 
night when his kinsman, Raj, came to his tavern by the road- 
side. What sharpened the sword was the tale of the murdered 
policeman. If Raj had done that—and the policeman’s deposi- 
tion, as finally presented, was against him, and the only men 
who could clear him were silent—then no punishment was too 
severe for people who had anything to do with him. As we have 
told before, numbers of such bought themselves out of trouble. 
Others who had not done anything actionable paid to escape 
from false charges, a state of affairs from which many sucked 
no small advantage. But the tavern keeper in his simplicity 


204 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


told what he had done, and, as this happened just after the 
reported murder, the Sirkar made an example of him. 

The Red Tiger robs a till! The Red Tiger robs a tavern ! 
So ran the headlines of the daily paper one morning. But Raj 
had not robbed. He wanted a drink for himself and Chotu, and 
holding out a five rupee-note had asked for change. 

“‘ Thereis no change,” saidtheman. “ But what bag is that ? ”’ 
said Raj, who knew the ways of the tavern, and he stretched out 
his hand, took the bag, turned it upside down, laughing as the 
minute coins poured out, and chaffed the servant, ‘‘ Verily there 
is no small change!” Just then the tavern keeper came in, his 
honest face beaming. ‘‘ Pay for thy drink here, O husband of 
my wife’s cousin!’ he said. ‘‘ What new custom is this ?”’ and 
he pushed the five rupee note back—and Raj returned the coppers 
—an episode which, as it was reported, showed Raj robbing the 
till one minute, and returning his ill-gotten gains the next. And 
no one seemed to think it an unlikely proceeding. 

Also—and this lent a criminal aspect to the simple act of 
changing a five rupee note—the word in the charge which should 
have been translated ‘‘ small change ”’ was translated by a word 
meaning money. Raj was taking money ; it was his usual game. 

The tavern keeper, fearing nobody, gave the men a potful of 
drink ; and then he drew Raj out under a banyan tree, and they 
talked. 

‘“* Hold on to this resolve of thine,” said Jothi. ‘“‘ Hindu as I 
am, I am glad thou shouldst be a Christian, if to be a Christian 
means that thou wilt walk straight to the end of thy days.” 

“‘ Verily, and verily I will,’ said Raj with emphasis. ‘ The 
desires I had have gone from me. Something within me refuses 
to rob. And I promised,” he added, ‘‘ I promised.’”’ And Jothi 
understood : Raj would not break his promise. 

“Ts it not hard to keep ? ”’ 

But Raj could only state facts as he saw them, he could not 
explain, and Jothi was not much enlightened, but something 
Raj said stuck in his memory like a burr on a sheep’s back. 

‘“‘ What is said about the Christians’ God is true. He is with 
me, yes, always. With Him there is never a letting go of the 
hand ”’ (it is the usual idiom: ‘I will never go aside from thee ’’— 
as it were on the road of life—and I will never let go thy hand, 
is the rendering in Raj’s vernacular for: “I will never leave 
thee or forsake thee ’’). 

“ Then let not thy hand slip out of His hand,” said Jothi. 

All this was well so far as it went. That one year of disgrace- 
ful law-breaking had blackened the family’s name. Certainly it 


JOTHI, THE TAVERN KEEPER 205 


was good to have done with robbing, but where was the sin of 
treading on a snake? Jothi asked Raj why he had not dealt 
sternly with his enemies and so vindicated his honour and his 
family’s honour? Why suffer such indignity in this meek 
manner? It was surely weak to be meek ? 

But Raj could not be shaken now. He had watched the sun 
rise on many a shining morning since that day in the Valley of 
the Rosy Rocks when grace had been given to him to pardon his 
tormentors. His book had been open in his hands as he sat on 
some high place and watched his heavenly Father make His 
sun to shine on the evil and on the good who lived on those 
spreading plains at the foot of the hills. From those hills he 
could watch the golden ball rise slowly from the pale far waters 
of the sea. In the clear air of dawn he could watch the beautiful 
illumination of the world. Could a lesson so illustrated pass 
unlearned ? Raj had learned it indeed by heart, it was fresh in 
his heart now. 

“T cannot do it,’”’ he said as the tavern keeper waited. “It 
is impossible, for I have been forgiven.’”’ But the tavern keeper 
who, like Marut, felt out of his depth, interrupted kindly if 
doubtfully, with a ‘And is that so?” and turned the con- 
versation, 

A day or two later, to his unfeigned astonishment, Jothi was 
arrested, charged with having harboured his notorious kinsman 
the criminal Raj, and his follower Chotu. 

Jothi stared at the Yellow Paper, lifted indignant hands to 
heaven, and called the powers above to witness that the thing 
was outrageous. “I gave them each a drink,” he said. }‘‘ Who 
am I that I should deny it? I talked with Raj under that tree. 
Is that harbouring ? ”’ 

Naturally enough, however, that conversation was described 
as confidential. Two years’ rigorous imprisonment was the 
sentence. 

But during the progress of his trial Jothi was bailed out, and 
he came to the Garden House and was given books and shown 
all that a few minutes could show, of the comforts and powers 
of the world to come. 

Those few words followed him to the jail. So did Raj’s as- 
tonishing statements ; so did the memory of his fearlessness and 
curious peace of mind, in spite of his evident weariness of the 
hunted life. 

Jothi appealed; but lost in the District Court. Having the 
means to do it, he appealed to the High Court. By that Court 
he was immediately set free. 


206 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Rejoicing, grateful for the unforgotten ten minutes’ talk just 
before his conviction, he came straight to the Garden House, 
and there he told his story. 

For, in the providence of God, Jothi had been sent to the jail 
to which Pon, to whom Raj had given his New Testament, had 
been sent some months previously when Authority began to 
scatter any known to be friends of Raj to different jails. And 
Pon had read his book. For seven months he had read it in 
silence towards man, then he opened his mouth, for had not Raj 
said, “ When thou hast found Jesus my Saviour, tell others ? ”’ 
And Pon had found Jesus, his heart was full of singing birds. 
He sang, he laughed, he spoke to all who would listen, nothing 
could quench him. ‘Oh, Raj told truth,” he said, “ Raj told 
me a splendid truth. There is nothing in all the world like the 
love of this wonderful Jesus.” 

‘“‘ Shut thy mouth,” said an irate official one day when Pon's 
exuberant gladness had become too offensive. But Pon had not 
the fear of man in him. ‘ All my work will I do faithfully; I 
will do double if double be given me; but in my free time my 
mouth is my own, and shut it I will not,’”’ he said, let us hope 
with all due respect, but certainly with decision. 

He was frowned upon; ways were found by which he could 
be harassed; but it was all to the good: untested Christians 
are feeble folk, and frowns make stronger men than smiles. Pon, 
however, smiled ; he laughed ; his laugh was as infectious as his 
cousin’s, and no one could resist Raj when he laughed. This 
extraordinary happiness in a prisoner who was having rather a 
hard time attracted other men. One by one, especially any who 
had known and loved Raj, began to try to find out what had 
happened to Pon; somehow he managed to let them know, 
speaking to those to whom he could speak, sending messages to 
others, ‘“‘ Be happy, do not grumble about your work, do it with 
joy. Jesus, the Saviour of men, looks upon you with love.” 

Had such a word ever been passed among men in prison? 
But who was this Jesus that the knowledge of Him should make 
Pon so glad? They began to want to know of Him, and Pon 
lent his precious New Testament to any who could read, and 
asked the jail schoolmaster to try to find someone outside the 
walls who would come and teach them about the Lord Jesus 
Christ, “‘ for there are twenty-seven of us here who are ready to 
be taught.’’ The schoolmaster found a man, and leave was given 
to him to teach any who wished to be taught, for the jail rules 
allow this. 

“What is thy desire ? ” was his first question to Pon. 


TIGERS, A BEAR’S CUB AND PANTHERS — 207 


“T desire baptism,’’ was Pon’s answer. 

“ Hast thou learned the lessons ? ”’ 

Pon had no idea of what the lessons were, but he answered 
unabashed, ‘‘ Kindly show them to me and I will learn them.” 
And the man, being in truth one who had a heart to care for the 
prisoners, in spite of his formal beginning, taught Pon and the 
others who had gathered round him ; and Raj’s New Testament 
was the gate of life to many a man in that jail. 

Jothi was not one of those who openly confessed his faith while 
he was in jail. But day by day his thoughts ran back to that 
talk under the banyan tree, to Raj’s perplexing, “‘ I have been 
forgiven,’ and he learned the prayer his kinsman had quoted, 
“ Forgive us our trespasses.”’ It was not much, but it was enough. 
He who works without noise of words worked in Jothi then, 
giving to him the shield of patience under adversity, so that in 
quietness of spirit he was able to listen and to think. When the 
happy issue out of all his afflictions was granted, he had made up 
his mind that the God his kinsman had found, the God who could 
keep from sin and give grace to forgive and love and forbear, 
should be his God. He would join the Christian Way. When 
he went home he found that to his wife, Seetha’s cousin, the 
same desire had come, so they “ joined the Way ”’ together. 

It was only just one of the many little rills of blessing set flowing 
by that frequent simple word about forgiving one’s enemies. Was 
it because our Saviour knew that there is nothing that melts the 
heart of man like love, forgiving, unresentful love, that He said 
so often in so many various ways, “‘ Ye have heard that it hath 
been said . . . But I say unto you, Love” ? 

Such was the crowning of that tavern keeper, who now lives 
on his land; for tavern keeping, he remarked sagely, is “* pro- 
fitable for this world, but has no concern with that which is to 
come.”’ 


CHAPTER VIII 
THREE TIGERS, A BEAR’S CUB AND SEVEN PANTHERS 


“HE is true, heistrue! Thereisno doubt aboutit. Heistrue.’’ 

The boy spoke half aloud, and with a kind of triumph. He 
had been following Raj’s fortunes after his escape from jail. He 
had never seen him in the forest after that escape, often as he 
had tried to find him ; but he had listened to the tales that were 
told everywhere, listened to what hunters, woodcutters and 
others said who had companied with him. And now he was sure 
that what his heart had told him all along was not false, but true. 


208 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And the boy who had three times faced a tiger, and knew of 
nothing on the plains or on the mountains that he feared, realized 
now that he had been fearing a fear, and that fear was the fall 
of Raj. 

As a little lad, Kumar had idolized Raj; but then so had all 
the boys of the village. For Raj was captain of the games; he 
had contrived a ball of cloth cleverly tied up with string, it made 
an excellent football; and he had formed the boys into a sort 
of club with a code of its own. 

And he had made racing and jumping a sport, with rules that 
had to be kept. He had turned the rather tame life of the village 
into something gloriously exciting, and it was all open-air play, 
above-board, and clean as the wind (this, in a land where games 
are often otherwise, could never be forgotten). And he was an 
excellent shot, which to the boy who had never owned a gun, 
but coveted nothing beyond that joy, completed his captain- 
hood. Raj could bring down a flying bird. He could hit a rupee 
at what seemed to Kumar a miraculous distance, and this with 
a gun, not a rifle. He could—but what was there he could not 
do? Nothing, at least nothing that Kumar wanted to do. And 
Raj was Kumar’s captain, his hero. 

Then, Kumar never understood how, except that he knew the 
Yellow Paper story, everything had changed, His hero was a 
robber. 

Kumar had hated to believe it. He came of an honest stock, 
honest as Raj’s own. Raj arobber? He loathed the thought, 
and till forced to accept it, he spurned it as too hateful for belief. 

For many months he had seen nothing of Raj. He had his 
own work to do, and it took him up to the forest, where he had 
many adventures. One day he was asleep in the grass of an 
open place rather low down on the hill-side. He woke feeling 
something alive near him, and softly stirring, he looked between 
the stalks of the eight-foot-high grass and saw the yellow and 
brown stripes of a tiger. He sprang up and shouted, and the 
tiger was startled and slipped off. 

Again he met a tiger. It was on a path not very far from the 
village. He walked backwards, keeping his eyes on the great 
cat. (Did Raj learn his backward walk—his last walk on earth— 
up there in the forest, as he faced the wild beasts that were so 
much more merciful than men ?) | 

At last Kumar reached his village and called up all who had 
guns, and they went tiger hunting. But the tiger got away. 

The third of his three adventures was the most exciting ; for 
the tiger was standing across the path, and Kumar met him full 


TIGERS, A BEAR’S CUB AND PANTHERS — 209 


face, and for one breathless moment they looked into each other's 
eyes. Then Kumar lifted his arms high, and put all he had into 
a shout, and the tiger turned and fled. 

To the Garden Village, to which one night a tiger came and 
left his interesting spoor behind in the soft earth but hurt no one, 
these tales of Kumar’s were nothing out of the way. Much more 
thrilling was his encounter with a bear’s cub. He came on it by 
accident, a little wobbly, quaint, black person. The mother was 
out, but could not be far away, and a mother bear can claw a 
man’s face into ribbons in a fraction of a second. Kumar 
hastened swiftly from that nursery. 

One day, shortly before Raj was betrayed for the first time, 
when Kumar was in the wood which climbs the lower slopes of a 
precipitous mountain, he saw on the rock above Raj and his 
three men, Undu the Rat, the sagacious Vina, and Chotu. 
Robber or not, Raj was Raj, and he climbed eagerly to the cave, 
and felt his heart drawn with the old love, but Raj looked 
troubled when he came. 

Vina stepped out: “‘ Thou hast come at a good hour, we are 
being hunted and have not been able to get a single pickle of 
rice. We are starving; hasten, run to the nearest bazaar and 
buy rice for us,’ and he held out a rupee. 

But Raj would not allow it. ‘Shall we get the lad into 
trouble with the polees ? Cannot we bear a little hunger? It 
will ruin him if they hear of it. We can wait a while and then 
go down and climb a palm and get some fruit,’ he said. And 
Vina had to yield. 

Then Raj drew Kumar away from the rocks, down the steep 
bank to the little wood out of ear-shot of his men, and he said 
earnestly : : 

“ Listen, little brother, this is a wretched life; be not drawn 
by the glamour of it, it is wretched. I hate it. Keep far away 
from it, little brother.’’ 

And from that hour Kumar loved Raj as if he had been his 
own. And one day, some weeks later, as he was passing through 
the valley to which a year afterwards Raj was to go when he 
escaped from the district jail, Kumar, having crossed the rose- 
red river bed, was about to pass the little hostel when he saw 
sitting round the cooking-stones, on which was a pot of rice, 
seven strong men and an eighth, and the eighth was Raj. 

A glance told him who the seven were, police spies sent to 
track Raj. And now they found him. What would happen ? 
Kumar drew near fascinated and forgetting to keep out of sight. 
There was reason for care, as he knew a moment later, for if the 


Q 


210 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


spies connected him with Raj, they certainly would inform 
against him. And that would mean a false charge, and that 
meant money which Kumar had not, and almost certain con- 
viction. But forgetting all this, he stood, and stared at the 
group round the fire. 

Raj was talking to them and joking with them. But the 
seven looked dangerous, like seven panthers round a ram; 
which of the seven would spring first ? 

Then one of the seven looked up and saw him. 

‘“Who is that lad ?’’ Kumar heard the suspicion in the man’s 
voice. 

“Oh, only a boy from one of the villages,’ said Raj 
carelessly as he too glanced up, just as if he had never seen 
Kumar before in his life, and had not seen him now before the 
panthers did ; and went on joking and talking with the seven. 

Kumar understood then that he had better go, and returning 
a few hours later, found Raj cheerfully dining. The seven 
panthers had trotted off, Raj said. 

Raj’s first capture had followed soon after, and his escape ; 
then the second capture, the escape, the himsa. With all the 
rest of his world Kumar had heard of the Lotus Water, and the 
visits to the jail, and the Bible read through those months, and 
of the baptism, and of Raj’s resolve never to rob again, and of 
how that resolve was being kept. And he knew of the refusal to 
take revenge on any of the betrayers or torturers. 

It had seemed too wonderful to be true, and he had feared 
sometimes lest Raj would break down, and had longed to see 
him and hear from his own lips that indeed he was a new man ; 
but he had never been able to find him. Now at last he had 
heard what convinced him. He had heard of the visit to the 
tavern, of Raj’s reply to the question why, when he could do it 
so easily, he did not touch the men who had injured him, above 
all those who were even then robbing in hisname. And the boy’s 
heart bounded with joy. Raj, who had thought of others and 
not of himself even in his robbing days, who had warned him off — 
as an elder brother from the path that his own feet trod, whose 
adorable courage, as Kumar saw it, had saved both himself and 
the boy who had once played football with him from the bite of 
the seven panthers, this Raj was what he had known he was. 
He need never be torn out of his place, he was Kumar’s captain 
still. And to the soul of Kumar, hardly awake as yet, came the 
first stirring that was to lead on to a surrender to Another, and a 
worthier, even the Captain of Raj’s salvation. 


UNDER MORNING AND EVENING STARS 211 


CHAPTER IX 
UNDER MORNING AND EVENING STARS 


THE Great Bear was standing upside down, with his tail in the 
air; the Cross was very low; the Pointers were flashing blue as 
they do not flash when they are higher, Alpha was like a young 
Sirius ; the Scorpion was slowly turning for the plunge over the 
mountains, as if he thought somewhere there he might overtake 
the Cross ; and Jupiter looked down upon them all, large, bright, 
and calm. A door in a small house in a hamlet opened quietly, 
and Raj, with farewells hardly spoken, passed out under the 
stars. He must be far away before those stars had set. 

He had risked much for those two days in that house, and so 
had his friends; but all life was a gamble then. He was return- 
ing now to the mountains, cheered by good food and brotherly 
kindness. There would be new tales to tell Chotu, from whom 
he had seldom been parted during those hunted months. 

Where he had stayed, in the shut-up room round which the life 
of the house flowed as usual, there had been talks with people 
who had arrived casually, loitered about the street, sauntered 
into the house, and talked to alland sundry. But, as they talked, 
a nearly closed door would push open a little wider, and there 
would be one man the fewer with nothing to do in that house. 
The women, always busy, would glance at one another and smile. 
Within whistle-call a posse of police carried on its usual activities ; 
the hamlet, with a golden reward in flesh and bones sitting peace- 
fully in the midst, went on likewise as usual, till the heat of a hot 
March day laid its hand upon them all, and hunters and hunted 
slept. 

But in that room there had been most strange talking. Not 
a word passed out of the house for many months. Such matters 
are not mentioned, even between trusted friends, till more than 
a little water has run under the bridge. But the talk was not 
forgotten. 

It was the time when foreign papers had begun to copy the 
exciting doings of this brigand who was ravaging the country 
like any wild beast and yet could not be caught. Descriptions, 
rather imaginary, showed him sitting on a hill (like Elijah) with 
a cordon of police drawn round it. The only time when Raj ever 
sat on a hill small enough to allow a cordon of police to surround 
it—it was an outcrop of the Great Pyramid of a previous story— 
he was the observer, not the observed. From that same hill he 
could look into the police quarters, and doubtless frequently did. 


212 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


All his other hills were of the nature of mountain chains running 
for several hundred miles without a break. But the papers 
carried on bravely, and, after describing the panic-stricken con- 
dition of the unfortunate district, would ask pathetically, ‘‘ How 
long is this state of things to continue ?’’ So perhaps it was 
hardly to be wondered at that even the Greater Great became 
more than a little annoyed. 

So indeed did the people, for the frauds had succeeded well. 
Others followed their example, and there were now several gangs 
distributed over that corner of British India and the adjoining 
strip of Native State Territory where Raj had moved with his 
band. There was always the hope that some of these would be 
caught red-handed, and every now and then stories escaped of 
one or another being tracked down ; but nothing ever came of it, | 
and there was not much to encourage the men as they talked 
things out that day. If only Raj could have risen at one leap to 
the highest, nothing would have mattered to him. ‘“‘ With me 
it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you or of man’s 
judgment ; but He that judgeth me is the Lord ” ; if he had been 
anywhere near that word, how quickly he would have given 
himself up and tasted the fulness of joy. But that hard if glorious 
peak was above him yet. He was only climbing up upon his 
hands and upon his feet, as a better man than he had climbed a 
sharp rock long ago. And then, to pull him back, was the fear 
of what his friends might be called upon to endure. No, he was 
climbing a very sharp rock, but it was only a lower spur of that 
ultimate peak. ‘‘ Not as though I had already attained” ; 
would he ever attain ? | 

Once while he was alone in that small room with a man who 
dearly loved him, the talk turned to the old fierce thought of 
revenge. The drive that way was tremendous now. Then, more 
plainly than he had ever spoken, Raj declared the faith that was 
in him and the truth that he had learned, and he quoted from 
St. Matthew’s Gospel. He was not wise to dilute the full strength 
of those great words; he might forget them, as he did for one 
red moment at the end when the hunt closed round him, but 
there they stood, and not in cold blood could he disobey them. 
They commanded him to love his enemies, bless those who cursed, 
do good to those who hated, pray for those who despitefully used 
him and persecuted him. 

But just and right are the ways of God. “ By terrible things in 
righteousness dost Thou answer us, O God of our salvation.” 
Souls are not saved and purified by sprinkling them with rose- 
water. Raj had refused his discipline. He had to learn to accept 


UNDER MORNING AND EVENING STARS 213 


it. For the true son of the Father there is no escape from the 
scourge, and that scourge smites sharply, it is not a child’s toy 
whip. 

And yet, as that sorely scourged man walked across the plain 
on his way back to the hills, under the disappearing stars of that 
hour before the dawn, sweet influences, unbound as the Pleiades’, 
were commanded for his consolation; and from his unfinished 
story were proceeding even then currents of power that no hand 
on earth could stay. If he could have crossed the intervening 
year, and seen that which was to be before those stars swung 
round again and in that same hour before the dawn made glorious 
the edges of the hills, two strangely contrasting scenes would 
have been staged before his astonished eyes, 

The first : The house of the seven brothers in the Village of the 
Herons, that house stripped of its seven men, of whom one—and 
he was the son over whose life the father swore a binding oath— 
was dead. He had been shot by the police, who in the twilight 
had mistaken him for Raj. Another—one of Raj’s tormentors, 
who had held the foot while his cousin hammered the leg—had 
been slashed about the body by a furious woman, and buried up 
to the neck in earth. And two others—the chief actors in that 
fierce play in the village near the sea—had tasted of himsa 
severe enough to teach them that flesh can feel. All this he 
would have seen and more. He would have seen his most cruel 
tormentor flying from his guards who were in hot pursuit. He 
would have seen him felled by the blow of a big stone, overtaken, 
seized, dragged back to the jail whose mercy protected him from 
what many an angry man would willingly have done to him ; 
for the roads were alive with people stirred by the sight of so 
dramatic a nemesis. ‘‘ Is it not he who tortured Raj ? ’’ was the 
word that was carried far and wide. ‘‘ Didst hear the thump of 
the blows? Didst see his ear hanging half-off? Verily this is 
the righteous judgment of God.” 

The second: A lake under the mountains and the sun setting 
behind those mountains ; and on the bank many people standing 
and rejoicing ; he would have heard them singing. 

And then he would have seen a man walking into the water, 
and known him for the man with whom he had talked in a httle 
shut-up room about the Law of the Kingdom: Love, bless, do 
good, pray. 


That baptism scene was melting into the dusk, and the children 
of the Garden House were lighting their coloured lanterns that a 


214 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


river of colour might wind across the plain, and in and out of the 
little Hindu villages all the way home, when some, whose thoughts 
were with the men who had walked those fading hills, turned 
again to look at them, and then, remembering the hills of Para- 
dise, looked up and saw, shining through the thin veil of a pink 
flush hardly to be called a cloud, bright and white and beautiful, 
the Evening Star. 


PART 2X 


‘*HEART’S-EASE FOR FLAMING HEART?” 


Oh, was there ever a blossom 
That bloomed so blithe as she ? 
On the bitter land, by the salt wet sand, 
On the margin of the sea, 
Where never a flower but the gorse can blow, 
And the dry sea-pink that the mermen sow, 
There grows she. 


Oh, was there ever a blossom 
That bloomed so brave as she, 
On the narrow ledge of the mountain’s edge 
Where the wild-fowl hardly be ? 
And over her head the Four Seasons go 
With a rush of wings when the Storm Kings blow— 
There grows she. 


No, there was never a blossom 
That bloomed so sweet as she, 
In the heart that burns, and loves, and learns 
Of the Man of Galilee. 
And plant her high, or plant her low, 
Iu a bed of fire, or a field of snow, 
There grows she. 
THE VALLEY OF VISION. 
Be constant, O happy soul, be constant and of good courage; for however 
intolerable thow art to thyself, yet thou wilt be protected, enriched, and beloved 
by that greatest Good, as if He had nothing else to do than to lead thee to 
perfection by the highest steps of love; and if thou dost not turn away, but 
perseverest constantly, without leaving off thy undertaking, know that thou 
offerest to God the most acceptable sacrifice ; so that if this Lord were capable 
of pain He would find no ease till He had completed this loving union with 
thy soul, 
MIGUEL MOLINOS, 
1640-97. 
CHAPTER I 


WITH HEROWN HANDS LET HER SHOOT US 


T was midnight when a hoarse whisper woke the silence of 
the Garden House. Two men had come running through the 
night ; they stood by the low verandah and waited. 
“He is caught! Chotu got away, but Raj was caught.’ 


215 


216 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


“Tf he has not been killed outright, kill him not,’’ had been 
the order shouted to the constables who rushed off to bring in 
the prize. ‘‘ Bring him alive to me, I say! I wish to question 
him about the death of the man sent up with the drug.”’ 

“No, he is not to be killed outright. He is to be taken alive 
to be examined about the death of the Rat.” 

“No, they will not kill him, it will be himsa, himsa, himsa.” 
The word was hissed, not spoken. 

There are moments when every sense is alive and tense. 
“ Drop the wax on his feet. . . . There will be the hammer and 
nail himsa. ... Hammer his leg... . Without shedding of 
blood the leg must be broken. . . . I cannot sleep till he is 
chopped up. ... He will be a limping cripple ’’—these and 
other words flickered past like tongues of flame in the darkness. 
The men went on talking in that dreadful whisper. 

Among those who, in the neighbouring town, heard the order 
given that Raj, if not killed outright, was to be kept alive and 
brought for examination about the death of Undu, was an Indian 
gentleman who had always discounted the tales he heard from 
time to time about himsa. He had even questioned the existence 
of himsa at all. He felt unable to believe in anything so remote © 
from the spirit of the age. Himsa belonged to a dark past. But 
he saw the face of the man who gave that order; he saw the 
cruel curl of the lips that snarled back from the teeth like the 
lips of a savage beast. “It was not a human face, it was in- 
human. I know now, I cannot help knowing that this evil is,” he 
said in speaking of it afterwards. And when, on a later day, he 
ventured to speak in official circles of the diabolical things done 
not only to men but to women, and was told that they had to be, 
for it was necessary to prove that Raj had been robbing, and a 
band had to be found, and there was no other way to extort the 
required confessions, then, indeed, he had no more to say. He 
knew that himsa was. | 

But on that day there was enough to sting the hours. What- 
ever of common duty filled them, the eyes of the spirit saw the 
things that (if the tale of the capture were true) might indeed be 
taking place even then, not far away, but as it were within the 
very sound of them; saw Raj roped on the floor at the feet of 
men free to do almost anything they pleased to his flesh. He 
would be calling to death to hasten and hurry him out of their 
hands. 

But the tale of the capture was not true. A child named after 
Raj had small-pox ; word had reached the police that Raj was 
ill and helpless. The village where the child was had been 


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pUuv SUTeZUNOW SITY JO MOTA LaqZOUR SMOYS aingord LAMOT IY, ‘asNJay Jo savy s.fvy sea oinjord do, ayy UI WMOYS IATA 9 09 SOTO 


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AWINONOO SPVAH NI SMHTA TVOIPAL OMSL 





14 


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VISIT TO THE DISTRICT HOSPITAL 217 


surrounded. “‘ Every hen-coop they searched, jabbing their knives 
in between the wicker-work. But him they found not. For he 
was not there.” 

The relief was great, and seeing how great it was, a sympathetic 
bystander said feelingly, “Do be comforted about the men. 
Never fear that they will fall alive into the hands of the folees, 
I can tell a comforting word about that ”’ ; and he told his com- 
forting word. 

Raj always carried poison with him, and he had a huge hideous 
knife, sharpened on both sides and kept sharp, ‘as a mighty 
dagger.”’ If time failed to prop up his gun and shoot himself, or 
if the poison failed, that knife would not. ‘Be in no fear for 
them,” 

But where would have been the witness in a hateful death of 
that sort? And what a revelation of their unregenerate ways 
of thinking. 

So Per had no rest till he saw them again, and declared him- 
self plainly. “‘ It would be unfaith,” he said, and he turned to 
Raj. ‘‘ It would bea kind of cowardice.’ 

But Raj was not convinced. He had heard of an Englishman 
who had done it to save himself from disgrace. The adventure 
of death drew him at times, though, attacked, he would fight for 
his hfe. What was there in self-killing that worried Per so much ? 
Per, in his fatherly earnest way, explained further. But to Raj, 
with his very primitive views, it was much ado about nothing. 
At last, to meet Per half-way, he proposed that Carunia should 
shoot them, Raj evidently thought she might not be a very 
good shot, for he added, ‘“ Tell her that we will sit perfectly 
still. With her own hand let her do it.”’ And he argued in all 
good faith that the Sirkar would not object to that. Would 
Per ask her ? 


CHAPTER II 
hay? FAYS.A VISIT TO THE DISTRICT, HOSPITAL 


AND now Raj conceived the hazardous idea of paying a visit to 
the district hospital where, he had heard, Vina was confined. 
Vina had refused to join him and Chotu in their escape, but he 
had not betrayed them, and Kaj had a great desire to see Vina 
again. Vina was not in the old jail. In order to be tried for a 
crime committed in the Native State, he had been moved to that 
State, and was confined in a sub-jail there. In a sub-jail the 
prisoners are kept in cells barred in front, and sometimes on two 


218 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


sides, so that in passing you see the whole cell; there is not even 
the privacy of a wild beast’s dark corner into which to creep from 
the eyes that look through the bars. In this cage facing a blank 
wall, sometimes alone, sometimes with one or two others, a man 
may be for over a year without anything whatever to do, for the 
healthier régime of the larger jails does not obtain there. Raj 
knew that Vina must be eating his heart out behind those bars, 
and it was worth anything to see him, He was now, he had 
heard, in the district hospital, where there was a single small cell, 
which received sick prisoners sent from the jail, 

But that whole area was being raked by police, there was not 
an unwatched road, All this Raj knew. What did it matter? 
The game was worth the candle, 

Now during his very friendly life Raj had acquired a varied 
collection of friends, He‘had no difficulty in getting the loan of 
suitable disguise. His turban was of the finest white muslin 
edged with gold. His shoulder scarf and his flowing robe were 
of the same, This white and gold is the perfect dress of the 
country and Raj would have nothing English, except expensive- 
looking boots sometimes adopted by Indian gentlemen, Chotu 
was semi-English, finished off “ with a neat tie.” But his general 
air was cosmopolitan, for in his forced travels Chotu had acquired 
the Malay style, and his dress and manner were reminiscent of 
foreign parts, 

At a little distance, as these interesting strangers passed down 
the street, a few stragglers belonging to the place might have been 
observed strolling in the same direction. But there was nothing 
unusualin that. The road was an open thoroughfare, The Indian 
gentleman and his attendant arrived in due course at the hospital 
facing the mountains, clear in every cleft and crag. Followed 
by his respectful attendant, the visitor walked into the wide 
compound, and with the utmost composure found his way to the 
verandah, where, apart from other wards, was the little barred 
cell. The sentry was negotiated. Yes, the gentleman and his 
attendant might see the prisoner. Yes, he was Vina of the 
nefarious Red Tiger’s band. Then Vina had a happy time. The 
long dull months fell back from him in that vivid, racing one half- 
hour. Reluctantly Raj tore himself away from those bars, and, 
before too long a visit attracted attention, he and Chotu discreetly 
retired. 

For a while Vina said nothing; but such a joyful episode 
bursts out in spite of the private admonitions of wisdom. The 
hospital gradually learned of the visit; there were some game 
enough to smile. The town learned, the police learned, and 


AND THE RAILWAY STATION 219 


naturally they followed any clue left about ; and in a land which 
talks so much there are always sure to be some. But Raj was 
away by that time. 


CHAPTER III 
AND THE RAILWAY STATION 


““ COME, let us walk through the streets of the town in full noon ” 
(he named the town), “ with our guns over our shoulders like the 
polees.”” 

It was Raj again, and as usual Chotu was ready. They did 
not rest till this was accomplished and, steeped in delight, their 
cares for the moment forgotten, they consulted together, “ What 
HeExXte si! 

“ And next,” said Raj at last, after pondering and discarding 
many attractive proposals, “ let it be the railway station.” 

It was not as mad as it sounds, They had practised to per- 
fection the art of walking, and even sitting, with their guns 
tucked inside the kind of clothes they wore on such occasions. 
They could trust themselves to sit on a bench with a policeman, 
“Come, let us do it,” said Raj, 

A railway station between trains may be a place of sloth. 
Rows of corpse-like figures lie along the platform, and someone 
is sure to curl up on the little wire-caged shelf of the barrier 
before the booking-office, and only uncurls when you go to buy 
your ticket, everywhere there hangs the delicious sense of nothing 
to do and an almost unbroken repose. But when the train comes 
in, this changes in the flash of a second. 

The corpses spring to life. Excitement, steamy, crushy, and 
hot, pours in, streams out of every carriage door and into every 
carriage door, jamming badly in the process. Vendors of small 
goods pierce the ear with cries of ‘“‘ Cahfee !’’ and the local name 
of every eatable and drinkable that can be carried or wheeled 
about. All ages shriek together, sometimes several musical 
instruments play different tunes at the same time, their drone, 
rasp, tinkle, and clap-clapping rattles fill all apertures, if such 
there be, in that solid wall of packed noises. Every now and then 
a belated straggler will pierce the wall with a yell as the train 
snorts and appears about to start, but on the whole the effect 
is noise in the solid, and the spectacle of such earnest people is 
most edifying to a man straight out of the forest where the in- 
different animals move in such other fashion. Raj who loved 
his kind revelled in it all, as he sat with Chotu on a bench a little 


220 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


outside the mighty struggle. Afterallhe washuman. The human 
in that mass of confusion drew him to itself. 

Presently a tremulous joy was his: “ Little brother, look,” 
he said softly, and Chotu thrilled in all the secret places of his 
soul. One of the station policemen, sauntering quietly past, 
sat down on the bench with them. 

They had other narrow escapes. Once they engaged a motor, 
or a friend did on their behalf, and went for a joy-ride on their 
own account, Raj on this occasion was dressed in English dress ; 
a hat, coat, trousers, socks and boots made him glorious in the 
eyes of his admirers, and in his hands he carried a cane with a 
silver top. He called at a police station—a passing call—the 
audacity of it saved him. He was all but caught when the house 
where he and Chotu were staying was surrounded. But the master 
of the house was too great a man to be bullied, so a polite request 
was made to him, to which he as politely assented. He had no 
objection, ‘‘ Though, of course,” his guests heard him declaim 
to the search party now assembled, “‘ if you do not find them you 
will be, as you are well aware, the very laughing-stock of the 
town.” And the search party retired. 

Nursing these precious memories, Raj and Chotu returned 
to the forest. 


CHAPTER IV 
THE WHISTLING SCHOOLBOY 


BuT a searching time was soon to come upon them. They were 
being accused of crimes and cruelties that made Raj writhe with 
shame. Whatever he had been, he had not been cruel. He 
knew, as many did, who the men were who were personating 
him. And again and again the desire awoke to end the struggle 
and have done with it. Once more, wrapped in a silence Chotu 
feared to break, he fought through. And just then the watch 
below was redoubled, and there was no way by which anyone 
could get up with food. They stinted their healthy appetites 
till they were living on much less than enough, but the day came 
when there was no food in the cave. 

Among the many birds of Indian forests is one which is related 
to the thrush. Seen among the shadows of the ravine or the 
wood, he is almost black ; but seen flying from boulder to boulder 
of his river, in bright sunshine there is a gleam of sapphire upon 
him, for his black feathers are tipped with blue. But the wonder 
of the bird is his whistle. Waken in the darkness of the wet 
season half an hour before dawn. There is no sign of dayspring 


THE WHISTLING SCHOOLBOY 221 


in the heart of the black forest. The rain comes down in sheets, 
as it has come for perhaps ten days and nights without stopping. 
The very air drips. How any bird outside lives, you cannot 
imagine. Sing? The idea is absurd. 

Suddenly, through the rain and the dark, you hear a peculiar 
leisurely whistle. Heard thus, it is the merriest bravest whistle, 
albeit so casual, and the whistling schoolboy is the bird’s name. 
Through every kind of weather he whistles his Good morning, 
and again, through fair weather or foul, his Good night. 

Did God listen for another whistling schoolboy that even- 
ing ? 

Just then, passing slowly along a jungle track some distance 
from the edge of the forest where the men were, was an old and 
faithful Christian who, living by the proceeds of his land, wand- 
ered far and wide, preaching from village to village. He was on 
his way home, and, as sound carries far in that clear air, he 
presently heard, coming from somewhere above, the sound of 
singing. 

“My Redeemer lives. What lack I? Answer me, O my soul.” 
It was the first line of a familiar lyric, and the preacher stopped, 
surprised to hear it there. Then he remembered Raj. He had 
not known he was anywhere near, but who else would be singing 
out in the wilds in the twilight ? He traced the singer by his 
song, and found the two hungry men settling down to a foodless, 
cheerless night,-two men, as it seemed, deserted ; but Raj was 
singing with all his might, “‘ What lack I? Answer me, O my 
soul.”’ 

And the preacher heard the tale of the last few days. ‘ They 
looked famished, but Raj would not give in; he cheered Chotu, 
he cheered himself, he cheered me,’’ said the old man as he told 
the happy story to his household. ‘‘ He even laughed, ‘ What 
lack I, tell me, O my soul,’ and he all but shouted the first line 
of his lyric, ‘My Redeemer lives, oh, He lives!’ and when I 
wished I had happened-to have food with me, he laughed again, 
and said, as if nothing else was of any importance, ‘ Buck up, 
brother, buck up! Our Lord is alive ; what does it matter how 
things are with us ?’”’ 

But the preacher could not leave the men hungry. He re- 
membered that he had passed some coco-nut palms lower down, 
and he went back and got as many nuts as he could carry. The 
thin creamy pulp was refreshing, and the young water, as the 
“milk ”’ of a coco-nut is called, revived the weary men. 

Heartened exceedingly, Raj burst into song again: “ My 
Redeemer liveth, what lack I? Answer me, O my soul.” 


222 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Thou who didst give Thy life to redeem my life, Thou dost rise up to be 
with me, 

Thou who hast ascended into heaven, and art the greatest in heaven, 
Keep me safe, O my Friend. 


Thou who didst win the victory over sin, death, hell, and the devil, 
Thou who hast cast away the curse, Saviour, High Priest, 
How shall I have sorrow any more? Rejoice, O my soul. 


He will grant intense desire, He will grant great light, 

He will plead for me in heaven, 

He will shelter me from danger, and go forward and lead me into ever- 
lasting life, 

Which is the door of heaven. 


He will comfort me and wipe away my tears, 
He will not forsake me at the last, 

He will forgive my sins and give me eternal life, 
He will lift me into His heavenly Kingdom. 


Raj sang it to the end. And the people call it the lyric Raj sang 
when he hungered. 

There is something mystic in joy. Perhaps that is why it is 
so alluring. Raj had little to say for himself. But he sang. 
Up and down the countryside that heard him, his songs are 
remembered. To sing in fair weather is natural enough; but to 
sing in glooms that can oppress mind and body alike, to sing on 
the brink of a foodless night, or at noon on an almost foodless 
day, with a foodless to-morrow imminent, and the gallows-rope 
trailing round the next corner, this sort of singing held a wonder 


in its heart. 
Who shall unseal a tomb of song? 
Who a flame of joy prolong ?>— 
Joy, most nigh the touch of air 
That lifts a leaf and is not there. 
Evening done, the sun is dead 
And all voice is vanished. 


Yes, but when the sun is dead, and all voice is vanished, there 
is a joy that lives on, and sings. 


CHAPTER V 
IN THE ELEPHANT GRASS 


THERE was a day when the Superintendent of Police received 
accurate information about the movements of Raj and Chotu, 
and he went himself with a strong posse of police to the upland 
valley where they had been living for some time. Whenever it 


IN THE ELEPHANT GRASS 223 


was known that any of these chief hunters were out, there was 
special prayer in the Garden House for their protection. Their 
friends knew perfectly that the two men had no wicked intention ; 
but it was said they had, and an accident might easily happen 
which would confirm that impression. Was ever a hunt when 
hunted and hunters were so bound together in one bundle of 
prayer? But of this the chief hunters knew nothing, though 
their subordinates did; and curious messages would reach the 
Garden House in recognition thereof. 

Presently a vivid account of the hunt that failed appeared in 
the daily paper. But the paper did not tell all. A messenger 
chanced to be going up to Raj and Chotu that day “‘ with some 
slight sustenance,’’ when he found himself followed by this other 
company, and he mingled with them comfortably. He was glad 
to see them ; it was good to go up under such safe escort; he 
turned on everyone in general a face as blank as a white-washed 
wall, and he accompanied the party to his very great content 
through the forest and out on to the grasslands. 

The men were in the grass, for they had not time to get away, 
and could not stir for fear of moving the grass which at that 
place is about six feet high. Their guns were loaded. They never 
took their fingers off the triggers. They watched the police file 
past, and from where Raj was he could have touched the English- 
man. When the backs of the search-party were turned to them, 
still Raj and Chotu watched. Then when opportunity offered, 
the messenger left the food at the place appointed and returned 
to the Plains with the police. 

“ Cold shivers ran up and down my back as I watched them,” 
said the man of the blank-wall face upon his return. ‘‘ But I 
knew they would not fire unless the police turned and saw them. 
Then I think they would have fired in the air and dashed off.” 

“Could they have escaped ?”’ 

“Tam not sure. They might have. If they had, they would 
have led the police a fine dance through the elephant grass all 
over the fells. Tired men would the police have been that night. 
As it was they had to carry the white man back. But it was a 
close thing. And it was not the first time Raj was within a 
hand’s clasp of that white man, he met him once full face 
But the story broke off, it was too familiar to tell. “And Raj 
-is a dangerous criminal, out to kill, so they say.” 

So they said, indeed, and many were the private tunes played 
to that same note. Once about that time, a Government Official 
who did not own a typewriter sent a long document to the Garden 
House, asking that it might be typed for him. It was a petition 





224 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


to Government for increase of pay, on the ground that the writer 
had to frequent places where the Red Tiger might possibly be ; 
he therefore walked in danger of death, and deserved increase of 
pay, for the aforesaid Tiger killed as it were for mere wantonness. 

One day while the air was electric with new tales of crime, 
the tension was relieved by a joyful incident. The towns and 
villages, worried by the continual presence of police, and threat- 
ened with that limb of Satan, as a candid official called the 
punitive police, threw care to the winds and laughed. 

For the police of the Native State and of British India squab- 
bled violently, audibly, and visibly, each accusing the other of 
“hiding Raj in the forest, robbing in his name and bagging the 
loot.’ 

And another day the villages were diverted by a peep-show. 
It was a curious affair, contrived out of a biscuit-tin and a few 
bits of glass. But when you looked you saw the Red Tiger 
stretched on the bed in the sub-jail hospital, and Carunia standing 
beside him. The very rumour of its coming drew crowds; its 
advent charmed coppers out of queer little knotted handkerchiefs 
and scarves ; and the adventurous proprietor waxed fat. Such 
things did greatly lighten the rigours of the time for the people, 
who were beginning to weary of perpetual alarms. 


CHAPTER VI 
THE WHISTLING SCHOOLBOY AGAIN 


AmonG the hills to the south is a peak that curves like the hooked 
bill of a bird. The Demon’s Peak, the people call it. To reach 
it you travel over a wind-swept upland, whence you look across 
many coloured miles to the sea. 

Raj had the eyes of a hawk. His hunters declared that his 
friends had given him field-glasses. But his Maker, and no other, 
was responsible for those hawk’s eyes. Now, going up to the 
Peak, he turned and stood at gaze, and saw, like a child’s toy 
farm-yard on a red table-cloth, the Garden Village with its many 
trees set on the red sand of the Plains. Under one of those roofs 
were his three children. What he endured, as time after time he 
saw that patch of green with the roofs of cottages showing through, 
no man may say. It was part of the discipline of his God. 

But that was a day of hot pursuit. A clue had been found 
by his hunters. The instinct of the hunted had warned him, 
“We must go to the Demon’s Peak,” he had said, ‘‘ we shall shake 
them off if we go there.”’ And the faithful Chotu had followed. 


THE WHISTLING SCHOOLBOY AGAIN 225 


So, on that early morning as the clouds that herald the south- 
west monsoon rolled up from the sea, and lay, like soft waves, 
round the base of the hills, shining, snowy-white, they skirted 
the forest-covered mountain, by way of those wide uplands 
where all the winds of heaven play, and presently crossing by 
some unmarked border, found themselves in the Native State 
to which the Demon’s Peak belongs. Once there, they were, 
for the moment, safe. 

They had only one anxiety, pressing enough, but for that day 
negligible, and Raj never borrowed trouble, or as his speech 
put it, beckoned to Saturn, the god of ill-luck, to come before 
his time. This anxiety was rice. — 

For they had been forced to fly without letting any of their 
friends know whither they were going. It was hard enough to 
get supplies to places known. How could anything possibly 
reach them on the Demon’s Peak when no one knew that they 
were there ? They had nothing with them but a little bundle of 
the rather bulky grain. Rice is not like wheat or oatmeal; a 
large quantity is required for a meal. Without its accustomed 
condiments it is sorry stuff, and, above all, without salt it is 
insipid as the white of anegg. And they had not even salt. 

Carefully they counted out the handfuls of rice. They might, 
almost certainly would, find game on the mountain, but rice was 
required if they were to keep fit. They had hardly enough for 
two days. There were no crows to preach faith—they had not 
found their way to the Demon’s Peak. Would ever one of their 
human brothers find his way ? There were reasons why it was 
better not to go down either side of that mountain for several 
days to come. 

It was the time of the year when the hills stand in, as it were, 
conscious joy. For before the coming of the south-west monsoon, 
and after the first showers that wash the leaves that were clean 
enough before, you may see magical things: a sky of faint green 
deepening to something like the feathers of yellow gold of the 
flying birds of the psalm, and against this yellow gold, mountains 
of the palest gold that can be called gold at all; and where the 
precipices are wet after the last shower, they shine like shredded 
crystal. Sometimes when the vapours ascend from the valleys, 
or drift on a light wind borne from the Indian Ocean, these 
vapours, golden too, are so disposed that it is as though the pale- 
gold and crystal mountains were cut sheer off, or rose, like dreams, 
from a sleeping golden sea. Welcomed into that world that 
evening, the two men slept in peace in a cave near a peaceful 
river, their to-morrow left in the folded hand of God. 

P 


226 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And on that same evening, to a sambhur-hunter some eight 
or nine hours’ walk distant in British India, came the thought 
that it would be good to get a couple of days’ shooting over 
Native State Territory before the approaching rains made it 
impossible. And as his mother measured out the required rice 
for two men for five days and tied it up in a cloth with smaller 
bundles of spices and, of course, salt, the young hunter considered 
the tangle of mountains near by and far off, and fixed on the 
Demon’s Peak ; there was good hunting always on that hill. 

So, taking a lad with him to carry the food and cooking-pots, 
he started off in the small hours of the morning and reached the 
Peak at about noon, 

But the Peak is a considerable hill, and it is covered with 
forest and thickets, except where it opens in grass. Set a man 
to find two men hidden somewhere on such a hill, and the search 
for the needle in the haystack appears a trivial task. And the 
hunter did not know that he was sent there to find anyone. 

But, as so often before in this story, we come upon what we 
cannot explain. We only know that the young hunter was 
directed to choose, out of all the many ravines on that mountain, — 
the one which led to the valley where Raj and Chotu were cooking - 
almost their last handful of rice. He was led as the preacher was 
led to the cave when the whistling schoolboy was heartening 
a hungry supper-hour with song. All that young hunter knows is 
that, as he climbed, he heard a man singing. For cheery-hearted 
Raj, having escaped his pursuers, was singing with his usual 
abandon to the spirit of song. So his voice carried for at least 
half a mile, and much excited the young hunter tracked his 
unexpected quarry by the sound. 

Not till Raj had been for seven good months safe on another 
Mountain with a New Song in his mouth was this story told. 

‘“T heard a man’s voice singing. I could hardly believe it at 
first, I thought we were alone on the mountain that day; but 
I tracked the way to him by the sound, and there I saw him, 
Yes, Raj; Raj and Chotu, under a big rock by the river.” 

‘“ What was he singing ? ”’ 

The hunter thought for a moment, then repeated the first 
line. It was easy to retrieve the song : 


He is the heavenly One, He the incorruptible, 
He is the loving Son, the alone true Christ, 
Praise Jesus, O my soul, praise Jesus! 


Giver of heaven, Giver of earth, 
The beautiful King, the adorably Lovely, 
Praise Jesus, O my soul, praise Jesus ! 


CARRY HIM OFF 227 


Performer and Perfecter of all my thoughts, 
Happiness incarnate in heaven and in earth, 
Praise Jesus, G my soul, praise Jesus | 


The picture was vivid as the hunter showed it. The bright 
river, the ferns between the stones and on the banks; a yellow 
flower like a lighted candle, standing up among dark leaves ; 
Chotu with his little pot on the fire by the rock; Raj near by, 
with his book in his hands, singing to hearten Chotu and himself. 

The hunter shared his store of provisions, and his salt, welcome 
salt. 

In all the stories told in the papers Raj’s knapsack figured. 
With his knapsack on his back the daring robber appeared before 
the startled wedding-guests, with his knapsack on his back he 
broke into peaceful dwellings. The meal over, the hunter saw 
Raj open that knapsack. Inside it was his little goat-skin bag, 
and from the bag he took his books and a pencil, for he never read 
without a pencil and he marked “ that he might find It again ”’ 
anything that struck him as vital. The hunter could not rfe- 
member what he read that day, but not till his last hour will he 
forget what he sang. 

Then Per, who had been listening to this, said suddenly, “I 
would go to the King, if I could, and tell him the truth.” For 
his heart was sore. The truth was still being held down, and 
Untruth had lately been officially reaffirmed. But Per was 
slowly recovering from another illness. The travail of that year 
had told hardly upon him, and he looked more like a man on his 
way to the King of kings than one who must endure again the 
bluster of the storm. 

‘What does it matter ?”’ said Carunia. ‘It is only the talk 
of the little rooms of earth.” And Per lay back comforted. 


CHAPTER VII 
CARRY HIM OFF 


“ CARRY him off, we shall be blind, carry him off.”’ 

The words were hardly spoken, they were merely murmured, 
and the man who spoke them, a Public Servant, stooped over 
some small matter of the Ford, and appeared to be talking about 
nothing more important than a screw or a strap. 

Many a man spoke that word ; for the Ford appeared to them 
as a kind and opportune providence—could Raj not be tucked 
up under a rug? And they could never have understood that, 


228 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


even if the car could count on passing, unsearched, all the toll- 
gates ordered to watch it, a curious constraint lay on its owners 
so far as its use was concerned. For the District Superintendent 
of Police had licensed that car. 

The men on the roads were not alone in their urgings. 

Letters came from many countries wishing that Raj should 
escape. Some suggested helpfully that he should go to another 
forest and live by hunting and selling game—as if the forests 
were not, every foot of them, Government property, and as if 
Government had not eyes all over India. And some said, “ Let 
him be a Christian sadhu and go about preaching the Gospel ’’— 
as if sadhus were not more or less suspect ; it is a tempting dis- 
guise. And besides, to be frank, Raj was no sadhu. The true 
sadhu walks on planes as.yet untrodden by this man who was 
still so incorrigibly boy. 

But Carunia had no business to touch him at all, ae for 
spiritual reasons. Once off that ground, she had no manner of 
right to come near him. Everywhere else he was Law’s, not hers. 
But on that ground he was hers, and she had rights that laughed 
at Law; no frown could warn her off that field where two hosts — 
contended for him. She was on the side of the angels. What 
would most quickly set him on the highest rock ? That was the 
questions of questions from the first day to the last. 

But Raj saw it like this : To surrender meant one of two things, 
either a fair trial with witnesses to prove an alibi, or an unfair 
trial with no witnesses. 

To summon such witnesses meant to ruin them. They would 
be criminals in the eye of the Law. 

So they could not be summoned. 

So there could be no fair trial. 

So conviction was certain, and that meant imprisonment for 
life, or the gallows. 

They were up against what seemed to them impossible. ‘‘ We 
must be fortified for it,’’ Raj had said, when conditions were much 
less serious. 

But to effect that they had to be somewhere where they could 
be taught. No part of their language area would be safe for more 
than a month or two, and was there a corner of the earth where 
that tongue was spoken which could not be combed out to find 
them if suspicion turned thither ? Why don’t you help them to 
escape ? The airy question overlooked a great many difficult 
details. To begin with there was one which affected all the others. 
The Garden House naturally was watched. Spies lived in its 
pocket. A venerable guest was amused to find himself escorted 


CARRY HIM OFF 229 


from the door of that house to his own some hundreds of miles 
away. Another, as innocent as a kitten of all designs upon Raj, 
was stalked and tracked and shadowed in a fashion that must 
have been expensive. However simple it may sound in a story- 
book, in plain life this kind of endeavour is about as simple as 
walking through a barbed wire entanglement. 

But all this was as nothing in comparison with the root ques- 
tion, Would it beright to doit at all? Itis doubt that tortures, 
not danger. Once be sure and nothing matters. ‘If thine eye 
be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.”” Again and again 
Raj’s friends fell back on that, and asked for the single eye, and 
yet no light came, 

‘““ Let my mother decide for me,”’ said Raj with filial faith. He 
had no idea of what he was asking. It was the hardest thing 
that was asked of her through those hard months. Ii only he 
could die; but that seemed to be the last thing Raj could do. 
A sinless accident, a slip on some high precipice or a swift clean 
death in the foaming waters, might she pray for such an end? 
Or might she pray to be guided so to direct his flight that he 
would be able to reach some place where he could be taught 
and fortified, to use his own word, so that he would return and 
surrender, bringing Chotu, who would have followed him to hell 
and surely would follow him to heaven ? 

One evening during this time of tension, the friend who had 
baptized Raj in the district jail came to the Garden House to 
baptize the first group of men won through Raj’s witness. These 
men had suffered and were still to suffer for their faith. Not one 
of them stood to gain a single anna by his confession, rather 
they would certainly lose. Each would be a marked man hence- 
forth, a target for those who sit in secret places and make ready 
their arrows upon the string that they may privily shoot at the 
upright of heart. And so, because there was reality in that bap- 
tism, the hour was full of a solemn happiness. Back went the 
thoughts of all who stood by that waterside to the baptism in the 
jail. How little the visible witnesses who stood round that bed 
in the hospital knew that they were witnessing the founding of 
a church. Were the angels who were there that day here by the 
waterside ? How much more they must know than we do yet 
of the wonderful counsels of God. 

But through that hour by the water under the hills the un- 
certainty that hung about Raj and Chotu’s affairs was like 
a thorn run into living flesh. “If I help you to escape,” had been 
Carunia’s last message, “it will only be that you may return. 
And after you are safely out of the country I shall tell the Sirkar 


230 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


what Ihave done,’”’ Forshe could not bear to think of Raj’s even 
wanting her to walk in any false way. And she had explained as 
clearly as she could that no true foundation for lasting peace 
could be found but in obedience. All other foundation would 
prove but shifting sand. To this he had answered again, “‘ My 
mother, choose for me.’’ And here she was, unable to choose, 
because she could not clearly see what was right to do. She did 
not even know what to pray for as she ought. And this indeed 
was a stabbing thorn. 

Later, the baptism over, the family returned to the Garden 
House and gathered for evening prayers. 

There was nothing startling in the reader. His voice was quiet 
as the fall of snow as he read familiar words from the eighth 
chapter of Romans: 

“We know not what we should pray for as we ought ; but the 
Spirit Himself maketh intercession for us with groanings which 
cannot be uttered.” Then, in a moment, and for ever, was the 
plucking out of that painful thorn. 

And shortly afterwards Raj acted on his own account. He 
knew how to find his way to those who were ready to help him. 
For, in spite of all that was done to kill confidence in him, there 
were many who could not get rid of the sense that somehow in- 
justice had been done, and that he ought to be encouraged to 
make a new start. It was astonishing how many were prepared 
to take big risks for his sake; but an experience like this tests 
the quality of the gold of human nature and discovers its glorious 
loyalties. To know what sheer pluck is, stand with your back 
to the wall with never a hope of help. Then you see them, the 
comrades that count. Friendships that will endure while time 
lasts, and after, were formed in those months. British and Indian 
came forward then, and showed themselves for what they were. 
It was an enriching time. 

But the days that followed Raj’s decision were strangely dual 
in feeling. There was peace, and yet there was also a most tense 
winding up of the strings of the inner man. On the road which 
Raj must take the hills parted abruptly and left some barren 
miles of plain. This gap had to be crossed. What if any hint of 
Raj’s intention had got out, and that gap were being watched ? 
How bare it appeared to the imagination, swept bare as a board, 
laid open under glaring skies. Raj would take it by night 
doubtless, but still no one could be sure. Raj was unexpected 
in his ways. And one slip would give away everything. 

Then rumours began to run about. It was said that Raj and 
Chotu had been deeoyed to a place to the north {could it be the 


CARRY HIM OFF 231 


gap ?) and that there they were to be netted, Raj was travelling 
in disguise, He was a medicine-man with a bundle of herbs and 
a medicine book in the vernacular. He wore a long white coat 
and had dark spectacles, and other un-Rajlike paraphernalia. 
Chotu was his chela, his humble disciple carrying his little bundle. 
But would Chotu always subdue his lordly young airs, and 
would Raj always remember to bend low like a decrepit old man 
and so disguise his hmp? Above all, what about their guns ? 
In vain they had been reminded that doctors do not carry guns. 
They would not leave those dangerous toys behind till they 
they were well out of range of the police of their own province. 
** We know how to walk with them under our clothes,’”’ was all 
they would say. But how stoop like a proper old man with a gun 
tucked under your clothes? And what if they were suspected 
and searched ? Let no one who wants an easy life have to do 
with such as Raj. His last remark was most disquieting. He 
wanted to label his gun, ‘‘ With the Red Tiger’s salaams,”’ and 
drop it somewhere near a police station. And who could be sure 
that he would not hang about to enjoy the finding thereof? 
“They will pounce on it,” he had said with the utmost relish, 
“and carry it off ‘for identification.’’’ And it was only too 
evident that Raj wanted to be there to see that little ceremony. 

Meanwhile the man appointed to meet them at a place several 
days’ journey north returned, having seen nothing of them. And 
a newspaper paragraph glanced at them with a much too certain 
glance, “‘ their arrest was momentarily expected.”’ 

Some days of absolute silence passed. Each silent day was 
a boon. The men were safe so far. If they had been caught, 
the news would have reached the Garden House before even the 
telegraphic account of the event had time to get into the papers. 

And then, at last, with the unhurried leisure of an ordinary 
message, came the word, “ They are back among the southern 
hills.” 

It was true. Presently Raj told all about it. ‘‘ We reached 
the grey crag and looked over. There were Reserve Police spread 
all about, We therefore assuredly gathered that it was not or- 
dained that we should go further at this time. Directed by this 
inauspicious omen we returned. But there were watchers, so 
we departed to another place where we have been since then in 
quietness.”’ 

Inauspicious omen ; it was a word that could not be gainsaid. 
To ignore such a sign from heaven would have been to walk into 
a snare; ‘‘in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird.” 

And in a sense it was a profound relief, The thought of escape 


232 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


had been hateful, such a poor second best. And even at that 
it was packed with perils, Raj could act policeman for an hour 
or two and visit a district hospital under the eye of the world, 
But he was not a man to play a part for long. He was too frank, 
too careless, too fond of fatal jokes. Sooner or later, if he delayed 
that which ought to be done, he would feel a tap on his arm, and 
turn and look into cold eyes and hear his old name spoken and 
know himself in the hands of the Law that never can forget. 
Day by day, be the years never so many, every morning must 
see the newspaper opened with a quick clutch of fear. 

Presently another word came from Raj, “I am sick of living 
the life of a jackal, but I have been thinking over things. There 
are marks upon me that would betray me wherever I was, and, 
if I were found, there would be trouble for all who helped me. 
There are risks to them at every point’’ (there certainly were, 
and to link up any kind of chain of helpers was extraordinarily 
difficult, because posted letters were not safe, and because of 
the uncertainties that compassed Raj’s path; no one could be 
sure he would be able to keep to anything arranged), ‘‘ Chotu 
is different,’’ he continued, “‘ he could get off easily, but any day 
the humped-up bone in my leg might betray me. No man shall 
suffer for my sake.” 

Poor Raj, many a man was to suffer for his sake, was even then 
suffering, there seemed no way out of that. As for Chotu, he 
refused to leave Raj. 

But surrender was not in Raj’s thought. “ If I were dead, then 
surely my people would be left in peace. Why is it so wrong to 
end one’s life, if it would give peace to others ?”’ So that wretched 
question was up again. And for a while there was a tossing on 
a tumbled sea of miserable fears. But the sea calmed. 

And the rain came on, and the bottles of heaven were poured 
out on the hills, for streaming days and nights. How chilly it 
must have been up there, how clammy the air, in those soaking 
caves by the swirling yeasty rivers. It was indeed so damp and 
doleful that Raj and Chotu made themselves a little hut of grass. 
They kept their books in a specially thatched nook in the roof, 
and creeping in through the low door were for the time safe. 
For they knew how to fold the grass step by step as they moved 
through it, turning it back to its old position as they passed, and 
in those miles of grass they were as safe as a white hare on a snow- 
field. But down on the Plains there were some who looked up 
into the gloomy mountains and thought of the story of St. 
Peter at Rome, and their hearts were filled with longing over 
the two lost up there in those clouds. 


“4JoT 94} CY YURG IY} UO SUIAPIS SI ‘Layovsy puv PUaTIJ pazOAap s.(ey ‘Lad 
SCUaU AHL JO AMV AML 


‘purey sty ur uodvam ®& 4YnNOUIIM SuUTAp 
sny} ‘uns siq AVMV SUNY PUB (SUTPULS WIS ST 9}IYM UL VINSY oY} 914M) YJIvea pot Jo yUvq B UO Ssuvids vy ‘ivau Moatp Slensind siy sy 


HIVad SCV AO ANHOS AHL 








NO MOONLIGHT NOR STARLIGHT 233 


“For on the eve of his martyrdom, as it is said, the friends 
of the apostle obtained the means for his escape. They pleaded 
the desolation of the Church. He may have remembered his 
deliverance by the angel from Herod’s prison. And so he yielded 
to their prayers. The city was now left and he was hastening 
along the Appian Way, when the Lord met him. “ Lord, whither 
goest Thou ?’”’ was his one eager question: and the reply fol- 
lowed, “‘ I go to Rome to be crucified again for thee.” 

“Next morning the prisoner was found by the keepers in his 
cell.”’ 

If that might be, if only that might be, who would not be 
content ? 


CHAPTER VIII 
NO MOONLIGHT NOR STARLIGHT 


“May I say you have suggested this ? ”’ 

It was asking a great deal to expect an answer in the affirma- 
tive. But this will not be understood in a land where a man’s 
reputation is not made or marred by whispers in secret places. 
Carunia knew she was asking a hard thing; but she was weary 
of black threads in dark rooms, and she knew the calibre of the 
ae to whom she spoke, There was no soft iron there. He was 
steel. 

“Yes, I believe I am doing right. You may certainly say 
that I asked you.” 

“ But I can promise nothing. They say they would rather die 
than come in. I can only try.” 

“Try then. It’s worth it.” 

The man who spoke was the civilian mentioned before, by 
whose insight and courage what might have been a caste riot 
was averted, the man who brought peace to the part of the dis- 
trict where for months there had been none. He wanted Carunia 
to meet the two men if possible. 

Quietly then, three who could be trusted, watched to give 
the message. It was dangerous at that time to be seen near the 
hills. Two were seriously threatened, and fell out alarmed. 
So there was only Per left, Per who never failed. 

“T regret to say he is still committing crimes,” was the next 
official word that reached the house, it was from the police 
officer then in charge. ‘‘ Ifa right man is sent I am sure he could 
be reached in no time, as he is not far from us.”’ And the places 
which Raj was said to be haunting were named. This letter was 
not cheering: ‘ He is still committing crimes.” The officer who 


234 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


wrote it had not, of course, been asked to move any of the patrols 
in order to give Carunia a better chance to reach the men. But 
when a dacoity occurred in the Village of the Temple, close by 
the Garden Village, the people everywhere heard that it had hap- 
pened because at Carunia’s request the patrols had been removed. 
It was impossible not to recall the letter with its obvious implica- 
tion that told of the first robbery. ‘It isn’t cricket,’ wrote 
somebody on hearing of it. It certainly was not. Christina’s 
boy Samuel spoke a feeling word that day : 

“Why, if ever I get out there again, I think I shall prize light 
and good way better than ever I did in all my life.” 

It was a comfort to remember that Greatheart the Guide said 
then, “ We shall be out by and by,” 

But many such words came like strong friends through those 
days: ‘‘ Why should I start at the plough of my Lord that maketh 
deep furrows on my soul? I know that He is no idle husband- 
man: He purposethacrop. Angry clay’s wind shall shake none 
of Christ’s corn. He will gather in all His wheat into His barn. 
Believe under a cloud, and wait for Him when there is no moon- 
light nor starlight.” ‘‘ Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, — 
that I will perform that good thing which I have promised.’ And 
yet there was another side to it all: Nothing but the Infinite 
Pity is sufficient for the infinite pathos of human life.” 


PART XI 


Then answered the Lord to the cry of His world, 
“ Shall I take away pain, 
And with it the power of the soul to endure, 
Made strong by the strain ? 
Shall I take away pity that knits heart to heart ? 
And sacrifice high P 
Will ye lose all your heroes that lift from the fire 
White brows to the shy ? 
Shall I take away love that redeems with a price, 
And smiles at its loss P 
Can ye spare from your lives that would climb unto Mine, 
The Christ on the Cross 2?” 
JULIA LEARNED 


CHAPTER I 
THE MEETING AND THE PARTING 


T was night on the edge of the forest. Clouds had covered 

the stars and there was no moon, but even so the least gleam 
of white might have led to trouble to her guides; so Carunia 
stained her hands and face and feet, and, wrapped in a dark sari, 
waited, 

“There will be a sign soon.” The words came like a breath 
from a shadow on the outer wall of the little room where she 
waited. Foran hour the shadow stood and did not stir, then from 
the jungle outside came a low call like the call of a night bird ; 
a soft whistle answered. ‘“‘ They are near,” breathed the shadow, 
and a silent guide led Carunia through ways unknown to her, till, 
like a patch of denser darkness in the darkness, she saw the two 
men. 

They were sitting low on the grass together, seen and yet 
hardly seen, soft shapes in the soft darkness, like two lorises 
curled up together. They rose, and in a moment Raj had Carunia’s 
hands in his, and was fondling them with the eager touch of a 
loving child. 

After a little it was possible to talk, and Raj asked about his 
children, and they told bit by bit of their hunted lives, of the 
fearful temptation to give way, of the keeping that had withheld 
them, of the wonderful suceour given at apecial times af need, 

235 


236 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


such as after the last killing that had been charged to them. 
‘“ And when we were there,”’ they named a house far away from 
the Plains, “ they gave us much comfort, talking with us as 
if indeed we were human, and not ravening beasts. We were 
faint and weary when we went, and they gave us soap, so that 
soon we were clean and refreshed ; and coffee and bread they gave 
us, and a Bible, for we had lost ours; and this coat was given ”’ 
(here Chotu directed Carunia’s hand to feel the texture of the 
coat), “‘ such a good coat ; was it not a deed of love? Just then 
we were getting sorely discouraged, for so many had begun to 
believe that we had done wrong, and all the wrongs done to us 
were as of no account, and we began to feel, Is it fair? If we had 
done as they say we did, would it have been so very wicked ? 
Was not my leg broken by himsa?’”’ And Raj drew Carunia’s 
hand down gently, till she felt the protruding bone, and under- 
stood the biting truth of the word that followed, “ At every 
sight of it the temptation sprang out, and shouted, ‘ Return 
the wrong by wrong!’ But this hardness was softened by their 
kindness and by their faith in us. Oh, it was grief to leave that 
place.’’ And they told of the poisoned egg. 

They told of strong temptation to give way and take revenge 
when first the robberies began. ‘“‘ It seemed as though to forgive 
were of no avail, they thought me weak,” said Raj. “‘ His 
religion has made him a weakling, we need not fear him now’— 
that was their thought. And when the brothers whom I had for- 
given for the himsa took to robbing in my name, then was I 
mightily tempted.”” And they told of how the dress they had 
adopted had been copied, and of the guns supplied ; and of how 
sometimes a man would carry a palm stem blackened, which 
in the dark looked like a gun. They named the members of the 
gang ; the leaders, they said, were the brothers who had betrayed 
them. ‘‘ We passed their houses lately in the Village of the 
Herons ; our feet dragged as we passed. But indeed we did not 
wish to sin, so we passed on and did nothing.” 

And they told of the comfort and the sense of their God’s 
approval when the false friend returned part of what he had held 
from them. They had still some of that money, they said, which 
they had turned into jewels as they were easier to carry than silver 
rupees. 

They told of their escape: ‘‘ We had lost heart,” they said. 
They told of their sorrow when they realised their folly. They 
told, too, of the times they had tried to come in, of the means 
taken to prevent that kind of surrender by which the police 
reward would have been lost; and of the deep discouragement 


THE MEETING AND THE PARTING 237 


and fear that seized them, when they had proof of the endeavour 
to ruin their reputation among the people whom they loved and 
who loved them. ‘To make the people think ill of us, this stabbed 
us. But even so they would not betray us. Oh, are they not a 
loyal people ? We have friends in every town, of every caste.” 
And they told of the help given to them, speaking gratefully of 
the courage that risked so much to help them. ‘‘ But we knew 
that sometimes it was necessary for our helpers to let us be 
blamed by causing it to appear that we had demanded things from 
them. What mattered it ? If the flood goes over the head, what 
does it matter if it be a foot deep or a fathom ? Oh, the calam- 
itous flood! We were ruined already.” And they told in little 
snatches of sentence, of those heart-broken hours when the 
things their souls refused to touch became their sorrowful meat. 

They told, too, of their perplexity about the question as to which 
would do less harm to their people, their coming in and the start- 
ing of a long series of trials in Court—(“‘ It is said that I am leading 
a band. Must not the band, somehow or other, be found ? ’’)— 
or their staying out till their death appeased the Powers—(“ It 
may be they will drop the matter then.”’) 

But they had by now quite given up all thoughts of surrender 
—‘‘ Our final thought is this: It would be better to die, for then 
surely the polees will be satisfied and leave our friends in peace.” 
(It never occurred to Raj or to Carunia either that he was thinking 
too generously.) Nothing could lead them back to where they 
had been before this black stream of crimes, committed in their 
name, had begun to flow. 

“It will all come out in time,” said Raj, with that quiet 
patience which had struck Carunia with wonder all through this 
talk. 

For there seemed to be no hardness in him, only a bitter pain 
that yet in some strange way contained sweetness. In India, 
when plantains are slow in ripening, a sharp rod is thrust up into 
the stem which bears the fruit, and the hundred or more plaintains 
on that stem ripen quickly. The sharp rod of this affliction that 
had been thrust into the heart of Raj, had set free the flow of 
sweet juices. There was a ripening of the fruit. But there was 
another side to such matters. Can anyone who loves justice 
think unmoved of what those two men endured, as those crimes 
were heaped upon them? ‘“ We had hoped the truth would 
come out, but itis not tobe. Not while we live; but one day it 
will all come out.” 

They told a little tale that showed their abysmal ignorance 
even yet of the ways of the Law. When the Governor of the 


238 RA#, BRIGAND CHIEF 


_ Province had come to the district to open a new railway, they had 
decided to come out boldly, walk through the crowds, and throw 
themselves at his feet. He would put them in prison, of course, 
but it would be he himself who put them there. All would be 
well. It was the old East, the very heart of the East, that which 
sees in its supreme Ruler something divine. 

Of this forlorn hope Carunia had heard, and she would have 
given much to further it; they had abandoned it in favour of 
another of which she heard now for the first time. 

They got paper and ink, they said, and a good envelope, and 
with infinite labour they wrote a statement of their matters to 
the Governor, telling the truth, beseeching for an inquiry of a 
new kind, but after the old fashion, direct, personal, the one kind 
of justice this older India understands. Yhey were ready to come 
down and give themselves up to such an inquiry. They would 
come on the signed word of the Great. 

They told of the posting of that letter and of their waiting for 
an answer, and they told it with such vivid, living, human little 
touches that Carunia found herself asking, “‘ And did an answer 
come ? ”’ 

They spoke of their hunters. They knew their whereabouts 
and movements, and the character of each, and their remarks 
were both shrewd and kindly: ‘‘ He, ahhe? We trust him not,” 
and they named the sum which had bought that man, and the 
number of times they had met him. “ But the purchase only 
holds good for a certain time and within a certain area. He has 
now been transferred. And he?” (they named another) ‘ We 
trust him not. He would buy you one day and sell you the next. 
But So-and-so, we trust; he is a fair hunter, he does his duty 
honestly ; he will catch us if he can.” And they told of “ the 
brave young Englishman on the big horse,’’ as they called him, 
who had won their admiration by his pluck in hunting them among 
the lanes in the twilight. They used to watch him, they said, 
and track him; “he was easily tracked. He used to lie in wait 
for us. It was the time when they had begun to say we would 
shoot even an Englishman. But he was not afraid. Oh yes, we 
liked him.”” And they spoke of their chief hunter who, before he 
was exasperated by the trouble their escape had given him, had 
spoken to them as man to men. “ He is angry now and bitter, 
believing all he is told. He was told once we would shoot him if 
we had the chance. But would we hurt a hair of his head? ” 
And they told of that day when he had been within a hand’s 
grasp in the elephant grass. (How different the points of view 
of hunter and hunted.) And of many such things they told, and 


THE BLUE TIME IN THE FOREST 239 


especially of that provoking but delightful hour when they came 
down to watch for the men on the motor-bus. “‘Oh, how we wanted 
to run forward when we saw your car! We saw its red flag. 
We saw you, we all but riskedit. Then we remembered your word 
that we might not come to see you, unless we were willing to 
surrender.” And they broke off to bless with a most vigorous 
and masculine blessing the official who had given leave for this 
one meeting. | 

“ But that leave was only given in the hope that I could per- 
suade you to end the trouble you are giving to the Sirkar.” 

They were silent; then earnestly, piteously, they tried to 
explain why they chose death rather than surrender, 

“ But with Jesus beside you through it all? ’* 

* But will He not be with us tn a death in the open air ¥ ” 

After this there was talk of what was heaviest on Carunia’s 
heart, “ If only I heard that thou hadst died without a weapon 
in thy hand, I could bear it,” she said to Raj, and she spoke 
of the death of our Lord, and Raj caught her hand in his and said, 
“O our mother, do not fear for us. Will God forsake us ? ” 

But indeed she did fear, for she knew the power of flesh out- 
raged, knew that a promise not to shoot at that last hour would be 
swept as a straw on the waves of an awful elemental passion ; 
so for a minute or two she could not speak, but only held his 
hands and cried in silence to her God to save those hands from 
blood-guiltiness. 

Then the watchers grew anxious. It was time to part. So 
they all stood up together, and Raj repeated his simple creed : 
“T must not rob; though we starve to death we must not rob. 
I must not avenge myself, I must forgive. I have been for- 
given, must I not forgive?’ And he repeated the first few verses 
of the 27th Psalm (never had they sounded more vital than that 
night in that wild place) ; and Chotu said the 23rd Psalm, and 
they all three knelt for one more minute, and prayed together 
for the last time. ‘ O Lord, Saviour of men, let happen what may, 
but keep them from sin.” It was her last word with them, and 
Raj stooped and kissed her hands. Then they parted. 


CHAPTER II 
THE BLUE TIME IN THE FOREST 


It was the blue time in the forest. The memecylon, the blue- 
ball tree, is so happy that he cannot content himself with the 
usual clusters of flowers at the end of budding twigs ; he breaks 


240 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


out all over his stem in soft little balls of blue. And this lovely 
tree made a mist of blue here and there in the green that bordered 
the banks of the streams. And down on the ground, in clumps of 
blue, was crossandra, who is often orange, but can be blue when 
she likes. And many another blue thing, purple and lilac and 
lavender grew there too, in fringes and spikes and plumy tufts, 
and mats spread on the grass. And big black and blue butterflies 
sailed slowly over the water, alighting on a boulder or even on 
a man if he stood quiet, mistaking him for a tree, and blue-green 
dragon-flies darted and wheeled like elfin aeroplanes each with 
his blue-flashing jewel. And blue-birds, their tiny Prussian-blue 
babies now beginning to turn azure, sat in little fluffy rows on 
the same branch, like a blue edition of the ten little nigger boys ; 
and overhead the sky was always one transparency of blue. 

And to Raj, who had brooded for months over a Bible in which 
every verse that spoke of the love of God was underlined in blue, 
this general blueness spoke in a hundred ways, till, constrained 
by Love eternal, he began to try humbly, as he had tried in the 
jail before his fall, to help others to taste the love that meant 
everything to him. 

One morning, up from the lowlands came the sound of a flute. - 
The tune was the lilting call the kine know and follow in the 
evenings. Pushing their horned heads through the undergrowth 
and the high grass, they come out in their hundreds, and stream 
down the path after the boy with the flute. But now it was 
morning and the cattle brought up for pasture were straying 
where they would, and the boy who played the flute played for his 
own pleasure. 

Soon he came into view, a swarthy lad, lithe and merry-eyed. 
With him were half a dozen others, all of them men of the open 
air, bronzed by the sun and wind. Raj beckoned to them to come 
near, and they squatted about him as he sat on a rock with his 
gun leaning against the rock behind him, and his bag of books 
beside him. 

“ Do you know why we are not robbing?’ The men looked 
at him with friendly eyes, and they shook their heads. They 
knew enough of Raj to know it was not because he was afraid. 
They had often wondered among themselves at this sudden 
change; but not one of them knew its cause. Of the mighty 
energies of the Spirit of Life they were as ignorant as the cattle 
they tended. 

“Speak, O brother, tell it.” 

And Raj told that amazing story, told of the Holy One who 
walked our dusty roads, and climbed our hills, and noticed the 


THE BLUE TIME IN THE FOREST 241 


sky changing for rain and fair weather, and the way the flowers 
grew, and the birds and beasts behaved, and healed the sick— 
Oh, that He were back again, so many are sick now—and loved 
poor people, and in the end gave His life for love of them. And 
he told in what manner it was given, told the story that had 
gripped him when he first heard it by the Lotus Water, showed 
the Three Crosses: Christ crucified between two thieves. 

“It is He who keeps us,” said Raj, ‘‘ for He rose. Death 
could not hold Him. And He is alive for ever and ever.” 

The revelation concerning life over which death has no power 
was much in his mind at that time. Soon after the herds left, 
the uplands became unsafe ; so he and Chotu went to the Valley 
of the Seven Caves, where they had been during the week of the 
first robbery, and, hearing this, Gir went up. 

“Listen,” said Raj to Gir, who had found him reading in his 
cave. “‘ Listen, I have been reading a mighty story,’ and he 
began to read aloud in the half-chant of his race. 

““* Jesus saith unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: 
he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’ 
Gir, it means this. The folees will kill me, I shall be dead. My 
body will be dead; but I shall be alive. I shall be alive with 
God. Though I be dead, yet shall I live.” 

The wonder of it seized him again. He sat looking at Gir who 
did not speak. “ Gir, Gir,” he said, “I shall be alive ; though I be 
dead, yet I shall live.” 

The next time Gir went up he told Raj of how the charge 
was being worked up against him for the Village of the Temple 
dacoity. Raj was depressed. But, after a few minutes, he 
opened his New Testament at the place where he had been 
reading last. 

“ And He put forth His hand and touched him, saying, I will; 
be thou clean. And immediately the leprosy departed from 
him.” 

His face cleared as he read it, and his eyes brightened. “ Gir,” 
he said, ““my leprosy is healed. ‘He put forth His hand and 
touched him saying, I will; be thou clean.’”’ And then with 
emphasis Raj continued to the end of the verse. “ And imme- 
diately the leprosy departed from im.” Gir knew what he meant 
and why those words held strong consolation that day. And he 
knew, as he had not known before, that when the little lamps of 
earth are covered over, and no human help can be, the love of 
the Lord is there. And the love of the Lord passeth all things 
for illumination. 


Q 


242 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER III | 
WILL THEY NEVER HEAR? WILL THEY NEVER KNOW ? 


But, blue and glad though the woods were, Raj had his very 
dark hours when he could see no light anywhere all round him 
and forgot to look up. On one such day he sat on a high place 
looking down upon the Plain and fretting over the things that 
were happening there. Per was sitting by him, and it seemed 
to Per that he had let slip the faith that so far had sustained 
him, that sooner or later the truth would come out ; for he cried 
his old cry of distress, ‘‘ Will they never hear? Will they never 
know? When I robbed I cared not who knew it. I told the 
world I was robbing. ‘Go, say this is Red Tiger’s work,’ I used 
to say to people Irobbed. Can any man say that I ever deceived ? 
But to be said to be robbing when I am not, that is a hateful 
thing. Do they think I have turned liar? I who would not have 
lied in my bad days, do they think I would lie now? ”’ 

It was not that he forgot that, though there were some who 
purposed to overthrow his goings, and sharpened their tongues 
like a serpent, and hid snares and cords and spread nets and set 
gins, yet he could lay no claim to innocence. However painful 
the vicissitudes of this painful life might be, he knew right well 
he deserved his punishment. There was nothing unjust in that. 
Whatever Raj did or did not do, he never made excuses for him- 
self. Strange and unimaginable to us in our security the thoughts 
of such a man must be. We can hardly hope to approach to 
them. But what Raj touched in his deepest hours he wrote in 
pencil in the New Testament he used in the jail: “‘ For He hath 
looked down from the height of His sanctuary; from heaven 
did the Lord behold the earth; to hear the groaning of the 
prisoner, to loose those that are appointed to death.” Is there 
any book like the Bible for the prisoner and the outcast, or 
indeed for any other of the children of men ? 

But on that special day his cry was for justice, justice now, 
and the clearing up of the muddles of time while Time still is. 
He saw only too surely that he had no chance whatever in any 
court on earth. And he was too impatient to wait for the find- 
ings of another Court. 7 

And he could not see that his refusal to come in gave colour 
to the belief that he was playing a double game (what a Jekyll 
and Hyde tale it would be, had he really been capable of sustain- 
ing such a part); for he never quite realised that Authority, 
even the kindest and fairest, could not possibly enter into his 


WILL THEY NEVER HEAR? 243 


reasons for refusing surrender. Had one among the men (who 
were bound to regard him from the single point of view of Law) 
ever been where he could begin to understand what it was that 
Raj dreaded for his people? “‘ How probe an unfelt evil? ”’ 
How feel an evil whose very existence is denied? “ He jests at 
scars who never felt a wound.” There is no way but that of 
fellowship in suffering to reveal the fact of suffering. He whom 
we follow read “ the tear-stained book of poor men’s souls,’ and 
we must.read it, too, if we want to understand. 

Per had left the countryside busy over a new story. It was 
crammed with exciting details: the Red Tiger had smashed his 
way into the house he had determined to rob. He had fired his 
gun to alarm the householder, and taken what he chose. The 
booty he had carried off was known down to the smallest jewel. 
He and his band had marched off to the forest laden with spoils 
enough to last them for months. 

After they had gone, and the man who had been robbed had 
sent his report to the police, the village people told him that he 
was mistaken. And they told him who the robbers were. They 
belonged to a village of which he was over-lord, and denial was 
useless. They owned up to all, offered to return the loot, and 
besought him not to inform the Authorities. 

He pondered. To change his report would not be advisable. 
To recover the loot at once would not be wise. He had no 
animus against Raj and Chotu, but he did not want to get into 
trouble himself. So he sent a message to the thieves. “‘ Lie 
low till the matter is forgotten, then return my property. I will 
not change my report.’’ Nor did he. 

“Tt is always and everywhere Raj and Chotu,” said Raj 
bitterly when he heard the tale. But when, as he soon did, he 
met some of the family on the road, he did not upbraid them, he 
only said, “‘ And, knowing we were not the dacoits, yet you 
allowed that report to stand against us. Is it fair? ’’ He was 
not always so patient. Sometimes he raged like a tormented 
bull baited by his picadors on all sides at once. One day he 
burst out with—“ If only I could get at them. If only I could 
punch their heads!’ But head-punching was a forbidden joy, 
and sooner or later Raj came back to his peace, and on that 
day he was in peace, and with no harder word than “Is it 
fair ?’’ he went his way. All this Per heard from a relative of 
the robbed man, so he understood the cause of the assault of 
the adversary, for the hour of overcoming is not always the hour 
of exaltation. He sat by Raj now, and comforted him just by 
understanding and being sorry and not doubting him. 


244 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And soon Raj, convicted by his own conscience, humbled and 
penitent, was on his knees, confessing the shaming sin of the 
past. “It is all my own fault,” he said to Per as he rose, and his 
eyes were wet. So blaming himself he forgot to blame others, 
and his soul settled down into quietness like the soul of a child 
who is sorry and forgiven. And he turned to the wild flowers 
growing near, and plucked them, and said to Per, ‘‘ So small and 
yet so beautiful!’’ ‘It was wonderful,” said Per, ‘‘ to see this 
big burly rough-hewn Raj with his soul-crushing troubles sitting 
in the valley of the shadow of death, occupied and happy with 
a flower.” 


CHAPTER IV 
WHERE THE BIRDS RANG THEIR LITTLE BELLS 


Upon a rock by the river, whose ravines sheltered Raj, a company 
of butterflies fluttered in that peculiar dancing way that butter- 
flies affect upon damp rocks on a sunny day. Blue and black, 
crimson and black, white and yellow, they made a gay little 


picture of pleasure. But asnake was on a rock not a foot distant. — 


His head, an inch or two from the stone, moved as though in 
accord with the dancing butterflies. If he had not been a snake, 
one would have said that he was charmed by their play and 
playing with them; dancing too in his own way to his own 
strange rhythm. But when a snake out in the wilds appears to 
be charmed, he usually is, or expects to be the charmer, and 
though the butterflies took no notice of him, probably did not 
know that he was there, he was watching. 

Raj and Chotu were young, they were in perfect form, strong 
with their strenuous open-air life, clean as their rivers. Can the 
young and healthy be always miserable, even if they be outlaws ? 
There were times when they forgot that they were unhappy, 
and let the spirit of the butterflies have its way in them. 
But down on the Plains the people to whom those two men 
had been given as a charge to keep for the most High, could 
never forget that snake with his moving head on the other 
stone. 

“Ts it your presence in the Garden House that protects them, 
or My presence with them in the forest? ’’ This was the word 
that came one night to Carunia, who had been unwillingly think- 
ing of something that must be done in the city four hundred 
miles away. It was absurd and unreasonable to be reluctant to 
go. And yet she was reluctant. ) 


a - — 
lr at 


THE BIRDS RANG THEIR LITTLE BELLS 245 


For spiritual danger was always so near the men, and they 
might be so unaware of it, that she had begun to feel that she 
could not be away from the mountains. She must be able to 
see them day and night. Only so (this was the unconscious 
thought that had begun to form) could she always be there with 
them, intercepting the dark influences, be almost as a presence 
coming between the two sometimes butterfly-careless men and 
the snake that watched on the stone. She had to make shields 
for them. How could she go away ? 

But the word that came in the night discovered the folly of 
such feelings : the shields of the earth belong unto Thee, O Lord, 
not unto us. Then the inward voice said, ‘‘ Go, and God which 
dwelleth in heaven prosper your journey, and the angels of God 
keep you company.” 

Even so companied, that visit to the city was not allease. For 
just before she left home, a private message came from Raj: 
“If my mother goes to the great city, I will certainly follow 
and meet her in the streets thereof. I have also a mind to see 
the Governor in his palace.’’ (This mind had been in him for 
some time.) There had been no way to let him know where, in 
a city of great spaces, his friend would be found, or to warn him 
that the streets thereof were not the best places for meeting. 
And the visit to the “ palace ’—imagination refused to picture 
it. So the prospect of his arrival was quick with anxiety. But 
would he arrive? Very alert-looking police officers mounted on 
cycles seemed to live on the borders of the stations. It was not 
likely that any poor disguise of his would blind those efficient 
people. They would note a stranger with a limp; every gesture 
of Raj, the very air of him as he glanced round to take his bear- 
ings of this unknown city, would mark him out to a man with 
eyes trained to see. And how would Raj announce his coming 
to his friend, supposing he did arrive and succeeded in eluding 
those watchers at the gates? How would he communicate with 
her? And what of her host, a Government Servant, who must 
not be compromised by any action of his guest? And should 
Raj find her, what would follow? It was horrible to think of 
him walking unconcerned into a trap. Now that Raj is safe in 
another City, the thought of all this is like a cold wind that 
blows for a moment and passes. But daggers were in it 
then. 

And yet, as she went in and out of shops and ordinary build- 
ings, there was peace in spite of dagger thrusts. Had not the 
angels of God been bidden to keep her company ? Even if Raj 
were so foolish as to come, did not they care for him too? Could 


246 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


anything happen that was not for his ultimate good? Was not 
the Lord of all the angels in command ? 

We walk by faith, not by sight. Could Carunia have seen 
through four hundred miles of blue air and through many leagues 
of green forest, there would have been no need to learn to stay 
her imagination upon the Lord, she would have stayed it upon the 
dearest sight those forests could have shown. For Raj had 
decided not to leave his forest, and he and Chotu had found 
their way to a high place in the hills, two days’ journey from 
the Plains. That place is reached by means of a tunnel several 
miles long which pierces a thicket of thorny undergrowth. This 
thick tangle opens on a glen: “‘ Like a little heaven,” to quote 
Marut who had sought them out there. Many flowers grow by 
the river, and the birds sing sweetly in the trees that stand out 
in the sunshine, their roots in the stream. That cave was a 
place of security, for hardly would the spies follow there. 

And on that sunny day, Raj plucked some flowers and smelt 
them. ‘ See how beautiful! Smell how sweet !”’ he said, giving 
them to Marut. His heart was gay and light that day, a new 
faith had come to him; he was sure, sure beyond a doubt at 
last, that the truth would come out in the end, and this had 
comforted him. And he laughed with the laughing water, and 
said to Marut, “‘ Listen to the birds. They do not think of us as 
men, but as creatures of the forest; so they do not fear us. 
Listen! They are ringing their little bells.” And they sat on 
the smooth stones in the stream, and dabbled their feet in the 
water like boys, and were at rest and merry of heart with the 
old spontaneous gaiety which found food for laughter in very 
little things. 

Presently the talk became serious. Marut, still not compre- 
hending his friend’s confidence, said, ‘‘ But how be sure that 
thou wilt go on pure to thy last days?” And Raj, in 
a deep emphatic voice that impressed every word on Marut’s 
memory, answered him, ‘ Would the One who suffered for me 
even to the extremity of the death-penalty forsake me at the 
last ?”’ 

Marut knew of whom Raj spoke and he found no reply. Hf 
that be true, if indeed that Great One had suffered to the ex- 
tremity of the death-penalty for love of a man, He was not likely 
to forsake him half-way through the difficult journey. 

Marut was sure that Raj was genuine. Had he turned in 
wrath on the spy who surprised him at the mouth of his cave, 
Marut would not have believed in the reality of any profound 
change, for the year’s straight walk would not have convinced 


THE BIRDS RANG THEIR LITTLE BELLS 247 


him ; he knew Raj was no robber by nature. The unintelligible 
was the more than human forbearance of that, ‘“‘ And thou, 
brother,”’ to one who had behaved so abominably—a relative to 
be a spy—how could it be forgiven? Marut remembered how 
he had shrunk back in fear lest he should be witness of a crime. 
But he had seen those outstretched arms and the quick rush of 
tears, with his own ears heard those unforgettable words of 
tender, heart-melting reproach. He therefore believed in Raj’s 
conversion, for something above nature must be found to account 
for such an attitude of soul. He listened now, saying little, but 
intent. Raj, however, knew nothing of his thoughts and began 
to talk of his own. They were about the resurrection from the 
dead and the life everlasting. 

He told Marut, as he had told Gir, that he knew he would 
shortly die by the hands of the police. ‘‘ But the thing I read 
here is this: I dying shall live; and in the end there will be a 
raising of the body, though what that means I do not know.” 
And he talked of these high mysteries believing, but finding 
them very far out of his sight. And he told how his mind was 
at rest. “‘ For,’ he said, ‘‘ it is the Lord Jesus Christ who gave 
His life for me, who is in charge of all my matters, and what is 
said of me is known to Him. And He will bring forth the truth 
at the time that is good to Him.” 

There, by the bright running water, with the birds ringing 
their little bells, and the flowers making gardens everywhere, 
Marut left his friend in peace. And that day in the city, ina 
room that was like a room from an English home set here in 
India, a newspaper was handed to Carunia. In it she read of 
two daring dacoities, committed by Raj and Chotu, who were 
holding up the country. And the stories were so convincingly 
written that for a moment her heart shook for the men who 
were not yet out of reach of the destroyer; and the tea-table 
and all the pretty pleasantness about her swam before her eyes, 
till she found herself repeating inwardly a sentence read a week 
before in a Lent sermon: ‘“ We fear and suffer, but we seldom 
suffer the thing that we fear. God does not crucify us upon the 
olive trees under whose boughs we have sweated blood.’’ Not under 
that olive tree would be the crucifixion of her hope. And 
yet may pardon be granted if words such as these should 
not be used. The extremity of anguish is not for us to 
know. 


248 RAZ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER V 
INKED WATERS, AND THE C.LD. 


When by your cause you stand its one defender, 
And hear the jeers and anger grow more loud, 

When greater men than you, grave-eyed, and tender, 
Look on your lone defiance from the crowd— 


BuT even so, there is a cup that must be drained. There 
was a touch of that, except that Raj’s friend was not ever 
really alone, for a splendid group of men and women stood with 
her, firm in faith through good report and ill. But sometimes, in 
spite of all, a question that could not be proved of no account was 
allowed to assail her: Far wiser people than you believe you mis- 
taken ; they have ways unknown to you of getting at the truth. 
What if they are right ? 

A year and three months after Raj’s death, a forest officer from 
the Native State where Raj so often stayed, chanced to be in the 
neighbourhood of the Garden House. He was a stranger to that 
house, but it soon appeared that he had an interest in its life. He 
had heard of Raj, and spoke of him as a true man, whose truth 
would one day come to light. He told of how his subordinates had 
told him of Raj’s life with them on the mountains “‘ while he was 
reported to be robbing on the Plains,”’ of his simple courtesies (re- 
membered everywhere), of his loyalty (his mere presence, they 
said, was enough to ensure the safety of the forests); of his 
anxious care over Chotu, whose heart was not yet fully set on 
righteousness, of his continual influence on all towards good, and 
of his books in their little skin bag, and of how he used to read and 
sing the songs he knew. “ Yes, it will come out one day,” said the 
forest officer. “For truth is bound to conquer. It cannot be 
held down for ever.” | 

But it was held down then. 

After Carunia left the city where, in clean, kind places far from 
this poor little fringe of its empire, the Governing Body sat, an- 
other from the Garden House had business there. And he heard 
that a man belonging to the C.I.D. was to be sent to the disturbed 
district to search into Raj’s matters. He who was to go was famed 
for his clever disguises. This greatly heartened the Garden House, 
and for many weeks it regarded with interest all floating sadhus 
and pedlars, and even beggars, for the Criminal Investigation 
Department might be begging by the roadside. 

It was a forlorn hope after all. And for this reason: the waters 
where these matters swam by this time had been thoroughly inked. 


INKED WATERS, AND THE C.LD. 249 


A giant cuttlefish had squirted his darkening fluid at the very 
mention of the name of Raj. And as every village had its spies 
who were proficient ink-squirters, the villages where Raj had at 
first been trusted and loved were now fearful and distrustful, for 
they heard nothing but tales of his prodigious crimes. And soon 
it became so dangerous to know anything about him, and above 
all anything to his credit, that those who knew kept silence. The 
honourable evaded questions. The less honourable lied freely. 
“Who tells truth to the Sirkar? ” this formula, which is prac- 
tically a proverb, applied to all their communication with anyone 
known to be in touch with the police. And where they did not 
know of such connection, and might be supposed to be frank in 
speech, they feared to be so. For it was not safe to confess to an 
interest in Raj, much less a belief in him, except to one known to 
be his trusty friend. 

The newspapers meanwhile continued to display their startling 
head-lines and tell their shocking tales. It did not seem to occur to 
anyone to trace the damnatory stories to their source. Whocould 
have then foretold that a year later the correspondent who had 
telegraphed those reports (as if truth were in the habit of jumping 
to the eye ready to be telegraphed) would call them“ tales founded 
on fiction, but the public, you know, likes things spiced,”’ and with 
his own hand write what he meant to be a handsome apology : 

“As the writer of the newspaper articles to which reference is 
made in this book, truth compels me to say that I was misled by 
my informants . . . and in justice to the memory of a brave man 
I should like to state that, despite his lapses previous to his last 
escape from jail the outstanding feature of his life was that he was 
a sportsman who always disdained to hit below the belt.” (The 
various letters and documents to which reference is made in this 
story are not reproduced in facsimile, lest trouble should come to 
the writers; though in several cases leave to use such was 
willingly given.) 

But all that was known then was that everybody said Raj was 
continually robbing, and occasionally killing, and that it was ex- 
_ tremely unwise to say anything else. And who, indeed, knew 
anything else ? None save the group of quiet men who said noth- 
ing, lest if a man spoke he should be snapped up and hurled down 
and ground to powder, and Raj be left with one less to care for 
him in his peril. 

So, long before Raj and his affairs had become important enough 
to demand serious investigation, a little coterie of friends had 
gathered round him, who alone held the password which opened 
the way into knowledge. Without that word no man or woman 


250 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


spoke freely to a stranger, however apparently friendly. The 
Garden House would have thankfully given the password to the 
one sent to inquire, and would then have stood aside, confident 
that the truth would have been found. But no one asked for it. 

There could be reticence even in that little coterie. One 
day Carunia was in a house which had sheltered Raj and Chotu, 
and, though the people of the house knew that she knew that they 
knew that she would have chopped off her right hand with the 
vegetable cutter then in operation on a pumpkin rather than be- 
tray one of them, for quite a long time it was as if a film were 
between. Raj was merely mentioned as one about whom they 
had heard rumours, 

For she had never been there before ; hence the film created in 
a moment by the gathered instinct of a thousand years between 
her and the people of the house. Not till she had sat for a long 
time with the old grandmother, helping her to shred tamarinds, 
not till the basket that stood on the floor between them was nearly 
full, did what may be called a glimmer of awareness lighten the 
old lady’s face; and after that she began in a desultory allusive 
kind of speech to take her into confidence. Then, a glance at the - 
daughters of the house, and the film was gone, dissolved like a 
whiff of smoke in the air. But, even then, the less said the better. 

Even among children there was the same extreme reticence. 
The Garden House girls had been for weeks good friends with the 
Hindu children in a town under the hills, where they went to teach 
and sing, Sunday by Sunday, before a child of eight or nine called 
one of them aside. ‘“‘ See,” she said, pointing to a deep-set door in 
a high wall that opened on to a private lane, “‘ by that door we 
used to let Raj in and out when he came to see our father, and we 
never told anybody, never.”’ ‘‘ He was life to our life,’”’ said the 
women of that house in speaking of him, when at last they spoke. 
their inmost thoughts, ‘not a man, woman or child in all this 
town would have betrayed him.”’ But from their talk before, no 
one would have gathered that they cared in the least; or at all 
believed in him. 

So, for these various reasons, no help came from the C.I.D. and 
all went on as before. 


CHAPTER VI 
THE WIDOW OF THE JEWELS 


AMONG Raj’s many friends was a widow who lived in a village far 
from the road. To approach it you go through a lane sunk low 
between muddy banks, which in wet weather is two feet deep in 


THE WIDOW OF THE JEWELS 251 


mud. Raj knew that the widow was anxious about the marriage 
of her youngest daughter. The village was a long way from the 
hills, but he never seems to have thought of risk for himself, and 
he may have thought that its isolation would make all safe for 
his hostess. 

With him and Chotu was Maya, an old relative of Raj, poor, 
rather infirm, quite despicable in character, but such a pitiful old 
creature that Raj in his folly used him in various ways, and, as 
Raj always paid his helpers with a lavish generosity (which was 
one reason why his forest life was more costly than might have 
been expected), the old man was eager to be used. He accom- 
panied Raj and Chotu now, and going a little in advance of them, 
found the house of the widow to whom Raj was bound, and tapped 
at her door. 

It was dusk, but not late. She opened the door, A little curly- 
headed girl who was playing on the floor looked up wonderingly. 

“ Raj and Chotu are near by,’”’ whispered old Maya. “ Thisisa 
letter from Raj,’ and he thrust a twisted scrap of paper into her 
hands. 

The widow closed the door. Someone read the note to her, ‘“‘ I 
am here, do not have me if thou art afraid. We will go away.” 
She opened the door again. 

“Tell them to come,’”’ she whispered to Maya, and he dis- 
appeared into the dusk. 

Presently there was a tap at the door and she opened it eagerly. 
The three men passed in and the door was shut. 

Then, after the usual salutations, Raj did a thing that shone in 
the widow’s memory like a little coloured picture hung on the 
walls of a small room and lighted with a candle. He took her . 
three-year-old granddaughter on his knee, and said, “ What is thy 
name, little one ?’’ And when the child answered shyly he said, 
“Thou must have a new name, and be a Christian child.”’ And 
he said, “‘ Listen, learn this song from me.’”’ And the child fol- 
lowed him through a few simple lines from the lyric, ‘‘ Lover of 
souls,’’ which Raj appears to have sung wherever he went. 

It was after this when the httle child, sung to sleep by the 
crooning song, was laid on her mat, that they began to talk 
together. 

“And how are thy children, and where ? ” the widow asked. 

“They are with my mother,” answered Raj simply. 

“But thy mother is dead,” said the widow perplexed. 

Then Raj explained, and told her about his children. He had 
been cheered lately by something too small, one might have 
thought, to reach him at all. One day the boys of the Garden 


252 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


Village were on their way to the water lying under the hills when 
some English-speaking men passed them. 

‘“‘ T wonder where those children are going,’’ said one of them as 
they passed, and the quick answer came from a boy in the merry 
mob, “‘ We are going to the water.”” He spoke in English. 

The men stopped, and glanced down at the upturned little face 
with its flashing eyes, full of the fun and the joy of life. “‘ Why, 
it is Raj’s boy!’’ And the men passed on. But that story flew 
to Raj. ‘“‘ They are learning English,” he said with a father’s 
pride. ‘‘ They are very well and happy.”’ 

“Ts it true that thou wilt not rob? ’”’ asked the widow. Raj 
told her then, very humbly, of his change of life, and she set food 
before them, and watched them curiously as they bent their heads 
for a moment over the rice, speaking to One invisible, thanking 
Him for the food. 

Then they got to the business that had brought Raj there, 
‘““T have a bridegroom in mind,” he said to the widow. “In the 
village near my native village, many have become people of the 
Christian way ; thou hast heard somewhat of that.”’ 

The widow nodded. She had heard something of what had 
been happening in the Village of the Reeds. | 

“One of the lads, a good lad, I know him well, would be suit- 
able for thy young daughter. But—she must be a Jesus Christ 
worshipper, or he could not marry her.”’ 

‘“ But how can that be ?”’ said the widow. 

“ T will tell thee.” Raj had it all planned out: “I willget word 
to my mother of this. She will send someone to teach thy little 
daughter. Then will the child believe and understand; and 
when that time comes, I will send word again ; and my mother, 
perhaps, will come ; and thou shalt set the maid and the young 
man here in the middle of the courtyard; and I shall be in 
yonder,” and he pointed to a tiny windowless room where stores 
and sundries were kept. “The door can be ajar, and through 
the narrow opening I shall see all the happiness and rejoice.” 

“But,” began the widow, scandalised at the thought of so 
unusual a wedding. 

“Tt will be nght and suitable,’ Raj continued calmly. ‘ My 
mother will put the golden bracelet on thy child’s arm with her 
own hands, and she will pray over them as they sit together ” 
(was it his idea of a Christian marriage which he had never seen ?) 
“and all will be well. And I shall be with you, rejoicing with you, 
yes—but without danger to any, for who will look there for 
me?’’ And he pointed again to the dark little cubby-hole, and 
laughed. 


THE WIDOW OF THE JEWELS 253 


“Now get me the marriage jewels,” he commanded. “I 
should like to see them.”’ 

The widow brought them. “I had them made from my own,” 
she said. “‘ Are they not just right for her ?’’ And she looked 
happily at the golden trinkets fashioned like the waxy lilac 
flower of the calotropis which grows on the wilds. 

“ They are very fine,” said Raj, “ and just right for thy child.” 
Raj was a connoisseur in jewels. The mother was satisfied. 

Then, the matter settled, the widow, greatly daring, had a goat 
slain, and prepared a cautious feast ; and, with affection that no 
fear could stifle, a few kinsfolk joined in welcoming this Raj of 
theirs who had returned to them healed from his sins. Again 
there was that unwonted pause, as Raj and Chotu thanked their 
God for His provision of good rice and goat-curry, and they fell 
to, and were happy. 

Raj did not seem the least afraid. A small noisy festival was 
being held in the village that night, and, though there was a 
moon and he might have been seen, Raj let the weird music 
and the insistent beat of the tomtoms draw him out of the safe 
little house, and he watched that festival as he had watched many, 
and returned to the house, he believed, unobserved. 

But on a day a few weeks afterwards, when Raj had been for 
three pure days keeping a holier festival, a man on his way to his 
fields met two constables, old acquaintances of his, between whom 
walked a frightened-looking woman, and in the easy way of his 
land he drifted into talk with them, and they told him about their 
prisoner, “‘ found with jewels, loot from one of Raj and Chotu’s 
last robberies. Ask her, she has confessed to it,’ and they 
moved aside a little. Then the woman eager to unburden her- 
self whispered hurriedly: “It is true that I said it. But I told 
a lie. Raj gave me nothing. They were my own, made new 
for my little daughter’s wedding. I could not hold out against 
the himsa.’’ It was the widow of the jewels and the feast. The 
man did what he could to bring the truth to ight. But nothing 
is harder than to uncover truth. 

A few days later, the widow was taken to Court to be tried 
for receiving stolen jewels from Raj. She stood at the end of the 
long room, looking with frightened puzzled eyes on the unfamiliar 
surroundings. She saw her precious jewels, her very own, re- 
made for her little girl’s wedding, handed up to be examined. 
And her heart stood still. She had said that Raj had given them 
from loot. But he had not given them at all. They were hers ; 
but she had said that they were stolen. Would the Great One 
who held them in his hand give them back to her ? If he did not, 


254 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


what would she do? Her little daughter must have jewels, or 
she could not be married. Now the Great One who was sitting 
by himself on a raised place was looking at them. He was saying 
something, brandu, what did “ brandu’’ mean ? 

Then she was hustled off. She did not understand in the least 
why, or what was happening, only that he who sat on the raised 
place had said “‘ bvandu’’ about her precious jewels. Would he 
ever give them back ? 

It was then that Carunia, having occasion to go to the railway 
station, saw a desolate figure sitting on the ground between 
two policemen. The woman was in the soiled and tumbled 
white of the widow ; her face was hidden. The policemen looked 
approachable, and not knowing who she was, Carunia asked them 
to allow her to comfort their poor prisoner whose drooping figure 
looked so pitiful there, alone among men. One of her guards 
was hardly more than a boy, and he said quickly, “ Gladly, 
gladly ; she is in much trouble,” and Carunia sat down on the 
flagged pavement and touched the woman’s hand. A sorrowful 
doubtful face unwrapped itself from the folds of the sari. 
A white woman, even though she was in a sari (like her own, 
only clean), was an unknown quantity. “‘ It is she whom they call 
mother of Raj,” said the friendly policeman. The woman put 
her hand in Carunia’s. ‘‘ O mother of Raj!” she exclaimed, and 
made friends at once. 

Then the pitiful little tale was told. ‘“‘They came to my 
house suddenly, and they seized me, and flung me on the floor 
and kicked me and stamped on me and, holding me down, they 
said, ‘ We are going to beat you till you say Raj gave you these 
jewels.” And I said, ‘I will never say so, for he never did so.’ 
Then they beat me. I cannot even now lie on my right side. And 
still I would not say so. Anda crowd gathered round my house, 
and my daughter was crying, and they thrust her out of the room. 
There was much shouting and again they said, ‘ Say it, Say it !’ 
and again I said, ‘ No, I will not say it; the jewels are my own. 
Raj never gave me any. At last, after much beating and 
terror, a man brought four datura fruits ”’ (a small fruit covered 
with sharp spines)——— Here she broke off. The young police- 
men were near. She could not continue. 

“Tt is all true,” they said with sympathy. ‘“ The himsa was 
very cruel.” And they said that the charge had broken down 
because the jewels were brand-new (and so could not possibly 
be loot. Not often did a slip like this occur). The widow was 
given a light sentence and a fine; but she was in terror at the 
thought of jail and had fallen at the feet of anyone who looked 


THE IBEX HUNTER 255 


important, explaining that it was all a lie about the jewels, and 
not in the least understanding that she was not going to jail for 
receiving them, but for giving a meal to Raj. When she did at 
last understand, she opened her eyes wide. ‘‘ But was it not 
Rent to feed those who were hungry because they would not 
sin ?”’ 

Just then an older policeman came up. He turned a savage 
face onthelads. ‘‘ What are you telling her (meaning Carunia) ?”’ 

“ Nothing, nothing,” they said. ‘“‘ What should we say ? What 
do we know ?”’ 

After this the poor thing trembled too much to do more than 
moan, ‘‘ Oh, I beseech you, comfort my people at home !”’ and, 
soothed by the promise that they would be comforted, she tried 
to smile. 

A few days later, standing in the village street where the 
widow’s relatives frantic with fear of more trouble were crowding 
round, Carunia and a Brahman woman who had gone with her 
heard more. But not much more. Some of the old women in 
the crowd began to tell what had finally subdued the widow, but 
the men interrupted. 

“Tell her not. It is too brutal.” 

But the old woman retorted angrily : 

‘ If she had to bear it, may not she bear to hear of it 2” 

Then the old woman drew aside the Brahman who had caught 
part of the forbidden sentence, and told her all. The woman 
on the floor yielded before the infernal thing they threatened 
then was done, and fell to beseechings and strokings of the cruel 
face bent over her, with pleading hands that, more eloquent than 
lips, besought him to spare her this. ‘‘Say it then. Say, ‘ Raj 
gave me these jewels from his loot,’ ’”’ and she said it. 

But that night in the little house, as she heaped the steaming 
rice on the plantain leaves, and ladled out curries, dropping them 
in yellow pools round the white rice, the widow had had no fears. 
Nor had Raj. So they feasted happily together, and on the follow- 
ing night when all was quiet the door was opened, and Raj and 
Chotu and Maya slipped out into the dark. 


CHAPTER VII 
THE IBEX HUNTER 


It was the time when the early rice is beginning to think of har- 
vest, and a pale honey colour plays over it, soon to turn to miles 
of gold, while the later fields are still green as grass, and unfenced, 


256 RAY, BRIGAND CHIEF 


unhedged, one vast velvet floor, stretch out to the mountains’ 
foot. There is no waste between hills and plain in the richer 
regions of the Native State where Raj had so many friends and a 
few relentless foes. 

Among those lush lowlands, lying quiet and secure, watched by 
serrated peaks that in the evening look like carven precious 
stones, is the Village of the Peacock, a little scattered village with 
narrow streets, ancient houses and quaint old-fashioned court- 
yards. 

To such a house, in such a street, came one night the rough 
sound of a knock at the door and shouts were heard as of men 
calling to each other. “‘ Red Tiger !’? shouted a voice, “ Red 
Tiger! Open to Red Tiger!’’ and armed men burst into the 
courtyard, and shortly afterwards went off with a great heap of 
jewels. 

‘Aye, 1t was Raj and Chotu,”’ said the old lady of the house 
when, a month or two after the furore had died down, she was 
telling the tale. ‘ Not that we knew them. Ohno, but I bie «: my 
own ears heard Chotu shout, ‘ Red Tiger!’ ”’ 

“And so did I,” said the head of the house. ‘I saw neither | 
Raj nor Chotu, but I heard them shout the names. I heard Chotu 
cal, Keo livery 

And yet the Red Tiger had need to be winged if he robbed i in 
that village that night. 

- For on the day before, he and Chotu spent a quiet hour with 
Per, who continually watched over the two as one who must give 
account. It was wonderful that he was able to go and come and 
never once found himself embarrassed by any who observed. Per- 
haps it was that his fine commanding presence disarmed suspicion, 
perhaps in the Unseen Order word had gone forth to have him 
attended, for he was about his Father’s business. Howe ver it was, 
the fact remains that he was rarely far from Raj and Chotu during 
those weeks and, though often it was unwise or impossible for him 
to communicate with the Garden House, and so that house was 
sometimes the last to hear of sure comfort, and was kept on the 
stretch in prayer in a way that can never be forgotten, yet he him- 
self had good reason for the faith that was in him where the men 
were concerned. Always at the back of his mind was the hope of 
the miracle being wrought which would make prison, nay death 
by the shameful rope, as dust in the balance to them. But he 
could not press them beyond what they were able to bear. 

He sat with them by a river on the lower slopes of the Demon’s 
Peak, and when he told the story, in order to show it to his 
listeners, he went out to the lane and found the wild flowers that 





THE SCENE OF THE FINAL TRAGEDY 


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THE IBEX HUNTER 257 


grew by that stream. The grace of the fashion of such flowers was 
to him as to Raj a quick and perpetual pleasure. 

As he talked they saw a river running between trees, and fes- 
toons of white jasmin and pink convolvulus hanging over the 
water, and tall feathery-headed lemon grass in sunlit spaces, and 
patches of purple, where a flower used in olden time in the ritual 
of the consecration of weapons threw its carpet on the edges of 
the stream. And there was tulasi, the most worshipped of all 
plants. Raj could not pluck the little herb and crush its stem 
and leaves between his fingers without being forthwith carried 
away to his earliest days, for that scent is a part of the heritage 
of every Hindu child. 

“ There is someone on the Demon’s Peak,” said Raj when they 
met, and Per could see a figure up among the rocks; friend or foe 
who could tell ? So they sat close under the trees as they talked. 

The talk was chiefly about the way the people on the Plains 
were being harassed, blackmail was being freely levied, and many 
were paying it to avoid being charged with complicity in the 
robberies. Raj said they felt they must go less often to the 
Plains, for they could not go without risking this trouble for their 
friends. It was well for his peace of mind that he could not see 
into the future, could not see a man stand up in Court and state 
exactly what he had refused to pay and why he was entangled ; 
could not see that man’s face when he heard the verdict of the 
jury (three out of the five had found him guilty), and the sentence 
pronounced—six years’ rigorous imprisonment; could not see 
him taken from the district jail where at least he had work and 
exercise, and confined in a cell in a sub-jail for many months un- 
tried, charged with dacoiting with him, Raj, in the village among 
the rice fields a day’s journey from this river where he and Per and 
Chotu talked together then. Well for him that he did not see the 
widow to whose little grandchild he had taught the song that 
hundreds to-day call Raj’s song, trampled on, threatened, in- 
sulted, overwhelmed, till she broke down, and said all she was 
told to say. 

Part of the talk that afternoon was about some gifts which he 
and Chotu had lately received. If the matter came to the ear of 
the police, the affair would, of course, be worked up into a case. 
If his friends refused to take this line, they would be involved in 
trouble. It sounded intolerable to Per, more so than to Raj and 
Chotu, but after all our feelings are largely dependent on our 
light. Their light was far from perfect day. And so all who had 
to do with them were kept on the rack lest they should do some- 
thing definitely compromising, or yield, even for only the briefest 


R 


258 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


moment, to one of the many tempters who found them out where- | 
ever they were. So Persaidearnestly, “‘ Let us pray together now.” 

As they knelt, Raj unfastened his knapsack and laid it on the 
rock ; and when they rose from their knees Per asked him if he 
had money init. Raj laughed and handed the knapsack to him, 
and Per shook out its contents on the rock; there was a razor, 
soap, a mirror and comb, papers, a pencil, some cartridges, and 
two books, the “ Gospel of St. Mark” and “the Psalms.” Chotu 
kept the money, part of what had been returned by their first 
betrayer whom Raj had forgiven, and liberal gifts from friends, 
and they showed it to Per. 

Then they arranged for food to be sent next day to a place near 
the shrine where the posse of police had lain in ambush a year ago. 
And Per promised to direct the man they named as messenger, 
and to see that all they required was in the bundle he would take. 
They could not carry much in their continual quick journeys, so 
they asked for only enough for four days, four measures of rice 
and some condiments. 

Next morning, the man appointed took the bundle of food, and 
Raj and Chotu met him and took the bundle from him and set 
off for the high rocks of the Damon’s Peak. There they were 
sitting, when from among the rocks a figure emerged and ap- 
proached them. A glance told them they had nothing to fear. 
The stranger seeing that they had guns thought they were sports- 
men and got into conversation with them, He found them keen 
enough on sport, they knew all about the haunts of the ibex on 
the high rocks. Presently when they sat down to rest he asked 
their names, and when he heard he stared astonished. 

“IT thought you were robbing on the Plains,”’ he said, “‘ our 
papers are full of your exploits.” 

“Many will tell you we are robbing,” answered Raj, and he 
added calmly, “ if we were robbing on the Plains, how could we be 
sitting on the hills 2? ” 

The ibex hunter was interested. They talked long together 
and hunted together, a strangely assorted trio; for the ibex 
hunter was in the confidential service of his Government. But 
under the open sky on the great hills things do not always wear 
the same expression as in the houses of men. And that night the 
dacoity was committed in the Village of the Peacock. 

Next day Per heard of it, and by chance met some men from 
the village itself, and they whispered the name of one who was, so 
the bazaars whispered, puliing the secret strings that connected 
the series of thefts, assaults, robberies and dacoities that filled the 
hectic months. But no one named that name aloud. 


THE GOLD MEDAL 259 


A week or two after Raj was dead Dura happened to hear him 
discussed by a man of some importance who hailed from another 
part of the country, and, joining the little knot of men who 
listened eagerly, heard of how one day the speaker had been shoot- 
ing ibex on the high rocks of the Demon’s Peak when he came 
upon two men whom he took to be hunters. And the tale was 
told of that afternoon’s sport. ‘‘ And next day the Plains were 
ringing with the Red Tiger’s big dacoity in a village a good day’s 
walk from the Peak. And just,’’ concluded the hunter in con- 
fident tones, ‘‘as he was robbing in the Village of the Peacock, 
when he was up on the high rocks of the Demon’s Peak, so was 
he robbing in the Village of the Temple, and in a score of other 
villages while he was somewhere else. And no one sees through 
the deception.” 

Then Dura came forward. He, lke many another, greatly 
wished that Raj’s name could be cleared of the stain that black- 
ened it in the eyes of official South India and wherever the news- 
paper stories were believed. So he asked the ibex hunter if he 
would speak out and say what he knew. 

“ T certainly should have done so if he had lived and had been 
tried for that crime,” said the hunter, ‘‘ but he is safe out of the 
hands of his persecutors now. What does it signify to him who is 
dead what is said of him ? And for me to move in the matter 
would bring trouble to me from the police of my own State. For 
many reasons this would be inexpedient. And as it would do no 
good, it is best to be silent.” 


CHAPTER VIII 
THE GOLD MEDAL 


AND now it appears, from what all who saw Raj about this time 
say, that he stayed for the most part up on the hills where the 
clear inviolate water was like a living friend and the forest trees 
were kind to him and the birds sang among the branches. But 
sometimes he came down for a few hours, and to several he spoke 
of his death as near. He seems to have had a great longing to see 
his children, and sent more than one message to Carunia begging 
that he might be allowed to come to the Garden House. But she 
was pledged not to encourage that, unless he were willing to sur- 
render, and, hard as it was to refuse, she had to refuse. One night 
he came very near the house, but without letting her know, and 
he went to the hut of a woman who knew the place, and could tell 
him of his children. 


260 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


“ How are they ? ” he asked her wistfully, and he named them 
each one: Delight, who was well named, she had clapped her 
hands and danced in a perfect abandon of pleasure when she 
heard of his baptism, and the little son who was so like his father 
that he seemed to love nothing so much as giving away his pos- 
sessions, and whose climbing feats were already a wonder to the 
family, and the more fragile little younger son whom Seetha had 
held in her arms when she stood at the door that fatal day. 
“Dost ever see them?” he asked the woman, his eyes fixed 
hungrily on her face. 

“‘T do not see them but IJ often hear of them,’’ she answered 
comfortingly. ‘‘ They are tended like flowers.” 

Raj raised his hands to heaven in a gesture of thanks, and then 
he told the woman that he would soon die. ‘‘ But all is well,” 
he said, “‘ we are in peace. I am in peace about my children.” 
Then he turned and went swiftly back to the hills. 

And there he and Chotu met another hunter who tested the 
men on his own account and in his own fashion. He came across 
them much as the ibex hunter had done and, like him, was 
astonished when he knew who they were. | 

‘“T thought you were piling up loot on the Plains,” he re- 
marked after a while. 

Raj laughed. ‘“‘So they say,” he said; but the laugh passed. 
Raj was sore under his laughter. Robbing was bad enough, but 
to be known as a deceiver was a bitterness no consciousness of 
integrity could sweeten. 

The hunter drew his story from him, heard of the Lotus Water 
and the teaching and the Book. 

“TJ, too, am a Christian,” he said, when Raj had told of the 
change i in desire wrought by this mighty Saviour of men; and 
then they talked of other things. 

But the hunter was still suspicious. The Indian proverb says, 
“A pickle from the pot shows the nature of the whole.’”’ The pot 
is the vessel in which the rice is boiled. The cook takes out a 
single grain, rubs it between her fingers, and knows the condition 
of the whole. 

“ T will test him,” said the hunter to himself ; then to Raj, “ My 
fellow-hunter is a scoundrel. He undertook to guide me to 
good hunting to-day and he went off on his own account. 
I have lost the best part of my day in consequence.” Raj 
sympathized. 

“ Wait till he comes back. I will pay him out for it,” said the 
hunter. 

Raj opened his eyes at this. “ But I thought you were a 


HIS CAVE OF ADULLAM 261 


Christian,” he said, with the directness of the man of the hills. 
“Should not a Christian forgive ?”’ 

It was the hardest lesson set him to learn, and he had hardly 
realized that it had not been mastered by every man who in sin- 
cerity calls himself a Christian. But the hunter knew better, and 
he could not escape from the thought. Here was a man, he said to 
himself, accused of murder, dacoity, robbery, and the vilest kind 
of hypocrisy. He had no hope whatever of being righted during 
his lifetime in the eyes of men, and yet he would not yield ; taken 
unawares, he rang true. 

A few days later the hunter talked to some schoolboys; they 
knew of the brigand captain and had heard something of the life 
he now lived on the hills. How explain it? ‘ Apparently this is 
a question involving not the mere turning of a shell, but the re- 
volution of a soul which is traversing a road leading from a kind 
of night-day up to a true day of real existence.” 

The hunter did not express his thoughts in these ancient famous 
words. But he gave their sense to those lads ; and their imagina- 
tion was kindled: “‘ Let us all join together,” they said, eager to 
reach and console with their generous trust this man so strangely 
tried. ‘‘ Let us have a fine gold medal made and send it to him.” 

Before it had reached him, Raj was where the gold medals of 
earth must look very trivial toys. And yet the love that gave it 
its value was something over which death has no power; so it 
may be Raj has his medal after all. 

But—for this was hidden for a little from his friends on the 
British side, they, thinking of the men in their need, cried for 
wings that they might fly to them and with hands of human love 
pull them back from the precipice edge which could never be far 
from their feet. They looked to those hills that, in clear shining 
after rain, open their familiar recesses, and the white threads of 
their waterfalls, and the colours of their woods. Oh, to be there ! 
But no, it was the word that had come before: The shields of the 
earth belong unto God; by prayer alone those men and women must 
learn to prevail. And when was human love a mightier thing than 
prayer to the living God ? 


CHAPTER IX 
HIS CAVE OF ADULLAM 


“ How long will this robber chief be allowed to plunder the 
people ? The whole of South India is surprised as to why the 
Government is so slow to send a big company of British soldiers 


262 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


to scour the country and secure the man. The people are taking 
shelter in the (neighbouring) territory, leaving their homes, and it 
is high time that immediate steps were taken to capture the 
dacoit chief. While Rome was burning, Nero was fiddling. Surely 
benign British Government cannot go to sleep when the people 
are in great danger of their lives and the loss of their property. 
The easiest solution of the problem is to proclaim a free pardon, 
and to promise Government employment. This will have imme- 
diate effect, and the man will surrender from his Cave of Adullam.”’ 

This letter to the Press, translated into the vernacular of the 
afflicted district, made Per smile a half-humorous, half-sad smile. 
“Tf they only knew,” he said, “‘if they only knew!” 

Raj’s Cave of Adullam at one time during those weeks was in 
the valley that opens on the Lotus Water, and one day it was a 
tree growing near that water. The tree is old, and rent by a 
fissure which leaves it hardly more than a shell, but it is shady 
still, and from it one can see the people who cross the plain on 
their way to and from the valleys among the hills. Raj and Chotu 
were sitting under that tree when a wood-cutter passed and Raj 
hailed him. 

The wood-cutter was a thoughtful man, he knew of Raj’s re- 
putation, and he knew too that it had no foundation in fact. Like 
other men of the villages near the mountains, he knew that Raj 
had countless opportunities to avenge himself on all who had 
offended him, and he knew that he had refused to hurt any of 
them. This had often perplexed the wood-cutter. Now was his 
opportunity ; he advanced eagerly, and the two men fell into talk. 

Presently Raj pulled out his books from the bag that he always 
carried. ‘‘I cannot explain these matters,”’ he said, “I have not 
wisdom for that, but this Book will tell thee all I have not wit to 
say. See, here is a word which I have tested and proved,” and 
he read slowly : 

‘““Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me: for 
I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your 
souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”’ 

The golden sunshine of late afternoon made little flickering 
pools of light on the ground where the three men sat. Fora while 
they sat in silence in the play of sun and shadow, and then Raj 
spoke again. 

“Men wonder why I do not rob,” he said. 

The wood-cutter nodded. He had often wondered. 

Raj turned the pages of his New Testament, till he found a 
well-thumbed place. 


HIS CAVE OF ADULLAM 263 


“No servant can serve two masters,” he read, “ for either he 
will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one 
and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.” 

Again for a while there was silence, and Raj looked away to the 
hills. “‘ Cannot,” he said at last, “‘ it says cannot.” And the wood- 
cutter bowed his head. 

But there was the other question about forgiveness still un- 
answered; he knew that the remembrance of the false friend’s 
treachery, and the himsa that had left Raj lame for life, must be 
painful to recall. Who was he that he should rub pepper on a raw 
wound ? And yet he wanted to know more than the meagre, “‘ I 
have been forgiven, so I must forgive,” that was all anyone ap- 
peared to have heard ; so he began with a tentative, “‘ Thy friend 
who betrayed thee—thou hast not injured him ? ” 

“No,” said Raj. 

“ Nor the brothers of the Village of the Herons ? ”’ 

“No,”’ said Raj. 

“O Raj,” said the wood-cutter, “ pardon my importunity ; 
tell me-—Why not ?”’ 

And this time Raj turned to the great letter of the apostle of 
love. And the wood-cutter marvelled as the words fell slowly, as 
if Raj were pondering each one of them : 

“ Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and 
everyone that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that 
loveth not, knoweth not God; for Godislove. In this was mani- 
fested the love of God toward us, because that God sent His only 
begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him. 
Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us, and 
sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God 
so loved us, we ought also to love one another.” 

The men sat in lighted air. The sun, nearing his setting, made 
the wide plain like a field of ripe corn, and the ground under the 
tree was bright. Raj pointed away to the mountains where the 
outgoings of the evening were rejoicing, and then to the Lotus 
Water, and the green shore, and he told of that other evening, 
and of all that had happened by that water ; and again, as if no 
more words were needed, he read : 

“ Beloved, 1f God so loved us, we ought also to love one another.” 

Then the moon rose behind the belt of palms on the plain, and 
the mountains were folded in silver mist, and the wood-cutter 
went home, leaving Raj and Chotu under the tree not far from 
the Lotus Water. 


264 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER X 
A GREAT VOICE AS OF A TRUMPET 


But if Raj would not surrender ? Capture, it seemed, was sure. 
It could only be a question of time. Days, hours, minutes beat 
like the throbs of a drum, beating to that moment. And what 
then ? If Raj broke down before that woe, what of the glory of 
the Lord ? 

It was not the first time that poignant question had pierced the 
hearts of Raj’s friends. 

And darkness overwhelmed her whom he called mother as she 
waited in the forest for Per, who was to bring a letter from the 
men. Had a fog risen up from the earth and stained the pure 
glory of God? 

But the Lord whom we serve does not shut us up in the hand 
of the enemy. He turns our heaviness into joy and He puts off 
our sackcloth and girds us with gladness. Fear is on every side, 
says the man in his distress, and his Lord says, Look, and he looks, 
and lo, there is no fear anywhere, for mercy embraceth him on 
every side, and his soul that was vexed within him remembers 
his God. 

It was so on that day of the weakness of fear, for it was shown, 
even as a father might show a beautiful thing to a child, that the 
glory of the Lord is too high to be obscured by the poor failures 
of earth. In the far end there will be the perfect triumph of 
righteousness. And there was strong consolation in the memory 
of the years’ intercession. Seetha in the Village of the Cactus had 
been the first of a band of intercessors that could hardly be num- 
bered. What a panoply of prayer had been thrown round this 
poor brigand. On one of his darkest days he had heard of prayer 
made for him in a convent on Mount Sinai, and had been com- 
forted. Inthe X-ray room of a London hospital, one, searched by 
rays so powerful that the surgeons had to watch her through glass 
doors, prayed out of that place of burnings for him, prayed till her 
spirit passed up like a flame. And so it was in a thousand places, 
people of all communities, all shades of faith, prayed to the living 
God who hears prayer. Does He move to such prayer to no pur- 
pose ? Did He ever move to prayer to disappoint at last ? 

Then, like a trumpet, pealed forth the great Scripture that had 
come on the day that had no brightness in it : 

“ Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy ; when I fall, I shall 
arise ; when sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me,’ 

And the trumpet went on speaking 


A GREAT VOICE AS OF A TRUMPET 265 


“I will bear- the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned 
against Him, until He plead my cause, and execute judgment for me ; 
He will bring me forth to the light, and I shall behold His righteous- 
ness.” 

“ Who ts a God like unto Thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and pas- 
seth by the transgression of the remnant of His heritage? He re- 
taineth not His anger for ever, because He delighteth in mercy.” 

But there is something in the human heart that not even the 
voice of a trumpet can reach or satisfy. One deep calleth another. 
The thought of the impenetrable darkness that surrounded Raj 
had still a dreadful power to distress, till the memory came of that 
other night when the word was given, ‘“‘ He who died for him will 
plan for him.” What if all fails, all thy plans, all thy hopes, and 
this strong wrestling with forces too strong for thee ends in ap- 
parent defeat, and the world that never wept a tear for these men’s 
souls laughs thee to scorn, what of that ? When was thy Lord 
defeated ? He who died for them will plan for them. 

But, O Lord, How ? 

“ Then the Lord said, Is the Lord’s hand waxed short? Thou 
Shalt see now whether My word shall come to pass unto thee or not.” 

Sometimes towards the end of a stifling day in India a light wind 
blows from the sea, and suddenly the mind revives and forgets the 
sluggish body. So at that moment a wind awoke, a sense of 
sweetest refreshment, a comforting sense: the words were wind, 
were life. Not of words merely read, or even loved, is it said that 
they are spirit and life, but “ the words that J have spoken unto 
you, they are spirit and they are life.” 

Then slowly, the ravine throbbed with a low music. Chord by 
chord it rose from a chaos of fear and doubt and sadness and sin, 
till it reached open sunlight. Confident chords rang out. Had 
the climber reached the hill-top? No, crashing through that 
hard-won joy came the weird, cruel, piercing notes, curling and 
writhing, that, like nothing that can be spoken, suggest the 
laughter of fiends. They beat upon the song, echoing from the 
sides of the mountains that rose round the little forest house. The 
song was fighting its way up like a live thing in a brave distress, 
slowly, painfully, chord by chord, surer and surer, till at last, at 
long last, the howling laughter fell back, and again the mind could 
only see the hungry waves that disappointed of their prey fell 
impotent. And the song climbed on, soared like a bird on power- 
ful wings, escaped from man’s night and devil’s laughter for ever 
and for ever, and was lost in the depths of the heavens of God. 

It was the music that flings this story with one great gesture out 
of the fog, and reveals what isin it, Let him who has an ear hear 


266 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


it, and he need not toil over the printed page. In one flash of in- 
sight he will see it ; one pang, and he will feelit. It was the musie 
of the Pilgrims’ Chorus. 

It was now morning, and the mountains shone. 


CHAPTER XI 
Od AAV EAGLE eo, 


Upon a rock before Carunia lay a newspaper cutting, In the core 
of that troubled night the story it told had burdened the hours ; it 
was powerless to break the heart now, but still it was a grievous 
thing. It told in much detail of the crime “‘ committed by the 
notorious Raj and Chotu,” in the Village of the Peacock, and she 
did not recognise it at first as one about which she had good cause ~ 
to be at rest ; for among the many names of the many villages— 
almost every day brought a new one—where Raj and Chotu were 
reported to be robbing, the name had escaped her memory. Some 
who have heard the story of these months of constant prayer and 
many tokens for good, have felt it a strange thing that any con- — 
cerned could fear at all. But, though an assurance had been given 
of ultimate triumph, no word had been spoken which could be 
understood to promise that Raj’s feet would never slip on the 
slippery paths of the world. Through what anguish might not 
victory have to be won? Cold print can give a deadly sense of 
certainty. No one dreamed in those days that the writer of those 
tragic tales, tales which so impressed a London journalist of good 
repute that he referred to Raj as the greatest brigand of modern 
times, would unashamed allude to them as fictitious. But com- 
fort was walking up the hill, a gang of wood-cutters passed the 
house and Carunia called them. 

The head man came forward, a fine muscular fellow. 

“Hast thou heard anything about this dacoity in the Village 
of the Peacock ? ”’ 

The man grinned all over his big tolerant face. 

‘““ Ay, verily I have, I have heard all about it. Men from the 
Peacock’s Village came to our village yesterday.” 

“Who dacoited ? ” 

He named the caste of the gang, and with a careful glance round 
indicated by a sweep of the hand one said to be interested. It was 
the one about whom the bazaars had been whispering for months. 
“Tt is reported, of course, as Raj and Chotu’s doing,”’ he added. 

““ How art thou so sure it was not their doing ? ”’ 

“Those who came told us everything, it was very cleverly 


“TL‘HAVE A’ LETTER” 267 


managed, They knew the robbers, but could not do anything. It 
was not Raj and Chotu’s work.” 

But comfort still more precious was on its way. Early next 
morning Per appeared, his good face glowing with the particular 
glow that meant all was well with the men. 

“ Yes, allis well. They have been for some little time with ex- 
cellent people who tell me they have been living straight. I could 
not find them for several days, for the hunt is being pressed close.”’ 

Carunia knew this; she had read in the same newspaper cut- 
ting of a very able police officer who had been summoned, an old 
friend, and the best of men. She was torn by fears for both, for 
the soul of the one and the body of the other, for she had thought 
of the Englishman as leading in person this new chase on the 
mountains, and Masefield’s “‘ Reynard the Fox’’ had raced 
through her : 

All the way to that blinding end 

He would meet with men and have none his friend: 
Men to holloa and men to run him, 

With stones to stagger and yells to stun him ; 

Men to head him, with whips to beat him, 

Teeth to mangle and mouths to eat him, 

And all the way, that wild high crying, 

To cold his blood with the thought of dying. 


And then at the end: ‘‘ With his ears flexed back and his teeth 
shown white, in a rat’s resolve for a dying bite.’’ O God, if they 
must shoot let him shoot straight—the hunter, not the hunted. 


“T have a letter,’ said Per. 

“To our mother her sons write as follows.’ The peaceful 
beginning seemed far from Reynard the Fox, and the hunt to the 
death. 

“When the one whom our mother sent came to us, and gave us 
the letter, to us, looking at it with great joy, it was as though our 
mother had come and stood directly in front of us: and we took 
~ the letter and laid it on our eyes. 

‘We continue to be happy always, and continue to pray. No 
manner of theft or robbery are we doing.” 

Then they told how, though this was so, the word about them 
still continued to be ‘‘ They are robbing! They are robbing !”’ 
They could not help feeling that some, at least, who accepted 
these reports knew them to be untrue. ‘‘ And yet the word con- 
tinues, and is spread everywhere. And our names are put in the 
records as robbing,” they wrote, ‘‘ and the poor have himsa, and 


” 


268 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


we who are doing none of these evil things may not rest any- 
where, but continually must move from one place to another in 
much trouble of spirit.”” Then, after a few sentences about the 
conditions of their life, which they realized were inevitable and 
could only end one way, they added, “‘ we are being kept.” 

““T took the letter,’ said Per, “‘ and told them I would return 
next day, and said if they had more to write, they could write it. 
And then, finding they had no paper, I gave them a little that I 
had with me. Next day when I went, this was ready ”’: the 
crumpled paper was covered with close writing in pencil. 

This was what Raj had written : 

“With my whole heart have I sought Thee; O let me not 
wander from Thy commandments. Thy word have I hid in mine 
heart that I might not sin against Thee. Thou hast dealt well 
with Thy servant, O Lord, according unto Thy word. Teach me 
good judgment and knowledge, for I have believed Thy com- 
mandments. Before I was afflicted I went astray ; but now have 
I kept Thy word. My soul fainteth for Thy salvation ; but I hope 
in Thy word. Mine eyes fail for Thy word, saying, When wilt Thou 
comfort me ? Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord. 
Lord, hear my voice; let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of 
my supplication. 

“To my mother—greeting. I will never forget. When I see 
your writing, it is as if Isaw my mother and, laying it on my eyes, 
I pray. I am in the mountains.”’ 

But having got so far on his journey towards the land of right- 
eousness, why did he not let the loving Spirit lead him forth 
unto perfection? Others had given themselves up and suffered 
unjustly, and triumphed gloriously—why not Raj? A sentence 
from the Legend of the Voice at Sinai came then with mighty 
healing : 

“And each one in Israel heard it according to his capacity. 
The voice was to each one as each one had power to receive it.” 

And only He who spoke from Sinai can judge true judgment 
about capacity. Does He not measure His vessels Himself? 


CHAPTER XI 
“WITHIN A WEEK” 


To understand the end of this strange story, it is needful to know 
that the kindness of being allowed to see the men had, unsought 
and unexpected, been granted again to Carunia by one high in 
the counsels of the Sirkar, who apparently approved of leave 


“ WITHIN A WEER” 269 


having been given before. She could promise nothing ; but there 
was always the hope that, influenced thus, they would come in. 
And every month of straight living strengthened that hope. It 
would be a miracle, of course. Everyone knew that. But when 
did the people of God cease to expect miracles ? 

So Per was again going to and fro, trying to arrange a way of 
meeting. But it was necessary to be very careful of such mes- 
sengers, for nothing could have saved them from interminable 
trouble, had they been known to be carrying even innocent and 
permitted letters. So the letter sent had been undirected and 
might have been written by any mother to any sons in sore need 
of succour. The message that leave had been given for another 
meeting was to be given by word of mouth. And in settling 
things with Per everything had to be left open; the men would 
come over the mountains from their abiding-place in the west ; 
or, if they found it better, they would come by way of the Plains. 
And this last time, no letter was sent, for there would be time to 
say all that was needful when they came. Only Carunia drew 
a circle on a piece of paper, and within it wrote a reference: 
Romans VIII. 35-39. 

“Tell them the circle means the eternal love of God, and let 
them read the verses,’’ she said to Per; and with that note, surely 
not too incriminating, in a little bag hung within his long white 
garment, Per, full of faith and love, departed. He looked back 
once as he went, ‘“ Within a week! Within a week!’ and 
Carunia watched his tall form turn the corner down the forest 
path, and with a new great hope she waited through the days of 
that one week. Gradually, hope began to wane, there was a 
sense of the gathering-up of forces, the air felt electric with storm- 
clouds just out of sight. It may only have been the thought 
of that ablest of hunters on the track, with the natural fears that 
such a thought engendered, of panic and quick sin (the bite of 
the cornered rat). However it was, the time was heavy with 
fear, which even the remembrance of the music sounding through 
the valley could not lighten. Nothing indeed could lighten it 
but the very word of God. That word held. Music might be 
imagination, but when was the spoken, written word of the Lord 
proved an imagined thing? Over and over again through that 
week, Carunia found the words upon which she had been caused 
to hope, and listened to them and read them and reread them. 
Heaven and earth may pass away, but not one jot or tittle of the 
eternal Word. 

How slowly yet how swiftly the days moved on. What could 
be delaying Per? But Per knew no more how to hasten than 


270 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


did any other of his countrymen, always excepting the workers 
of iniquity who do evil with both hands earnestly. Carunia 
could see him, with his deliberate walk, his air of assured repose, 
on the Plains and on the hills. And after him, or perhaps they 
were ahead of him, swift runners. What if they reached Raj 
first ? 

At such times there is no end to the lovingkindness of the 
Lord and His comforts are infinite. Among them was always 
one that like the stars watched “‘ an advantage to appear,” that 
private star of memory, that made the brown-walled room in the 
Forest House like the place in the open desert where a man saw 
a ladder set upon the earth. It was not so much that the things 
seen had come to pass, though indeed that was good ; it was that 
they had been shown at all that was so comforting. For just 
that brought it home to the heart that in the immaterial world 
which counts for so much more than the material, and yet is so 
bafflingly invisible, inaudible, at least to eyes and ears of sense, 
someone was taking note of the man, buffeted as he was by such 
tremendous winds. Someone was interested in him. If from the 
King of England a wireless message had come, “‘ I am in charge 
of his affairs,’ with what confidence would not all who were 
anxious on his behalf have waited to see what was going to hap- 
pen? How much surer the confidence now that from the palace 
of the King of kings something very much like that had come. 
But to what purpose had the comfort of that confidence been 
granted if all were to go down in defeat ? All could not go down 
in defeat. There are hours when the soul rises and affirms its 
faith with an assurance that no force on earth can shake. Let 
a thousand voices quote “ failures’’ in prayer, let facts and 
arguments be piled mountain high to prove that human will 
does often thwart the holy purposes of God, even so, though 
it cannot deny the awful facts, or refute the arguments, yet they 
melt, they pass as unsubstantial nothings before the mighty 
promises of God. Verily, it is a shallow experience of the ways of 
life and death that knows nothing of the mysteries of apparently 
unanswered prayer. What, a hateful voice persisted doggedly, 
what if Raj, fighting for his life, turned savage in the hands of 
his captors? But so vivid at that moment was the sense of 
the irresistible march of the hosts of God, that the answer 
flashed back as if another had answered, Even so, that would 
not be the end. Are the operations of our God limited by the 
range of our vision ? 


MARUT’S LETTER 271 


CHAPTER XIII 
MARUT’S LETTER 


It was the time of the year when the forest lights his candles. 
Scattered here and there in the midst of the dense green were 
brilliant yellows and reds, the flame-coloured beauty of tall 
treefuls of young leaves. Delicate rose pinks were there too, and 
old rose, and nameless tints of puce and gold. And among the 
rocks, by the way that Raj and Chotu might come, were great 
beds like snowfields of pure white scented lilies. What is it in 
the beauty of the world that is so tender in its friendliness ? 
Ah, it is no mere ‘‘it.”’ It is He, our Lord, our Beloved, who 
moves through the wood to us. “It is I, be not afraid.’’ And 
in His woods there are many trees whose leaves are for medicine 
for bruises and for sores. 

Down on the Plains, Marut too had a letter. ‘“ Thou must be 
the Lord’s,’’ wrote Raj. ‘‘I cannot often see thee to tell thee 
about the love of Jesus, so I write this letter. Leave thy Hindu 
shastras; they lead nowhere. Leave thy charms and incanta- 
tions. (Marut was a student of magic.) There is only one way 
by which we may walk to the Land of Release. When we were 
little boys at school we loved each other dearly, we have been 
friends ever since. It was happiness to be together then, even so 
it will be happiness to be together in the heavenly land. This is 
my desire for thee, even that thou mayest know Jesus my Lord. 
I am wandering about on the mountains and cannot tell thee all 
that is in my heart to tell thee of Him. But on the Friday of 
next week I intend to go to my mother who is in the Grey Forest. 
I want thee to meet me that I may take thee to her and ask her 
to teach thee and lead thee to Jesus my Lord. Expect me before 
Friday. Farewell, my brother, whom I shall for ever love. Meet 
me at the appointed place.” 

And Marut met him. The place was a grove of nut trees, there 
was a spring of water there, and near the spring a cave. Sitting 
by that spring they talked for a while, and then going to the cave 
Raj took Marut’s hands in his, and they had their last long talk. 

Raj told Marut that the bitterness of feeling himself unjustly 
blamed had passed entirely from him. “I have been reading 
about the followers of our Lord who suffered very much more than 
I have suffered, and in perfect innocency ; whereas I sinned and 
deserve to suffer. My sins are all forgiven ; but is it not a great 
thing that to me, unworthy, this suffering has been given ? 

“ Our Lord Jesus is mindful of all things, even of the little 


272 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


sparrows ; the common birds of the wood are noticed by Him ; 
and He said that His Father, our heavenly God, cares for them 
too. He, my Father, is caring forme. I have no burdens now. 
They are gone, I know that my death is very near; but I go to 
the Lord. When He was on earth, He healed even lepers. He 
has healed me of my leprosy of sin. He healed a man whose 
right hand was withered. This right hand of mine that sinned is 
now a hand that has been healed. He died for me, my punishment 
He bore. By the merits of His blood He has washed me. He 
loved me and He gave Himself for me. He loves thee and He 
gave Himself for thee, O my brother ; thou, too, hast sin that must 
be pardoned. Wilt thou not hasten unto Him? My brother, 
come.” 

Marut listened in silence. He had never heard Raj speak so 
freely before. He had never seen such urgency. 

“This is Sunday, the Christians’ resting day,” said Raj. 
“ Come let us pray together,” and he knelt down. 

“ Wilt thou too kneel? ’’ he asked Marut. 

‘“T will kneel,’ said Marut, too much impressed to refuse. 


On a rock above, Chotu sat watching, gun in hand. Before he 


knelt down, Raj had propped his gun against the wall of the cave. 
Even in that cave he dare not forget that someone might be 
following Marut; for Marut came from a house where police 
were quartered, he might have been tracked. But for the moment 
Raj let these thoughts slip, and he poured out his heart for his 
friend: ‘‘ Lord, my Lord Jesus, Thou seest Marut, he and I have 
been brothers here, O let us be brothers for ever. Let him not 
follow after unrighteousness, let him seek and find and follow 
Thee. O let him be with mein Thy country. Give him with me 
an inheritance there.” And, too much moved to speak, Marut 
rose from his knees. 

“T will meet thee on Thursday, and on Friday we shall go 
together to the Grey Forest,’ said Raj as they parted. Of 
Per he said nothing. For Per knew nothing of Marut’s touch 
with Raj and Marut knew nothing of Per’s. ‘“‘ Is not the air full 
of ears and tongues ? ”’ one of his friends had said in explanation 
of these many reserves. ‘“‘ Raj takes care of us who love him.” 
And because of this care many a little incident, that would have 
been very comforting and reassuring through those most anxious 
days, was wrapped up in quietness. And the men and women 
who prayed had to continue to learn to stay themselves, not 
upon the evidence of things seen or heard, but on the Lord their 
God. 

The week passed. They did not come over the mountain. 


LAST BARS OF THE *“ PILGRIMS’ CHORUS” 273 


There was no low bird-call at the window at night. Had they 
found that upper way watched, and were they going to try the 
perilous way by the Plains ? 


CHAPTER XIV 
THE LAST BARS OF THE ‘PILGRIMS’ CHORUS” 


CARUNIA was writing to those who were pledged to pray for Raj. 
She had just copied his last letter, and was pausing for a moment, 
pondering the inextricable confusion of circumstances, wondering 
by what turn of events the word of peace and victory that had 
been given would be fulfilled, when Per came in, unannounced, 
by the open door. 

But he sank to the ground, his shoulders heaving; and he 
groaned aloud. 

“ Have they sinned ? ”’ 

The words were torn from Carunia. 

“No, no, no. They died clean.” 

And after that nothing seemed to matter. 


It was Thursday—the day Raj had arranged to meet Marut 
and bring him up to the Grey Forest. It was the time when men 
are out at work and women are indoors cooking. No one had 
seen the armed police who had entered the Village of the Reeds 
by the winding lanes that lead from the road. 

The three Englishwomen from the Garden House who were 
living there were kneeling, as their custom was, with their Indian 
friends, before starting for their evening’s work, and—again 
this was their custom—they were praying for Raj and Chotu. 

As they were in the act of asking that the men might be kept 
from sin, the sound of guns near by startled them. 

They did not know, till the women who had just heard of it 
ran in to tell them, that Raj and Chotu were said to be in a little 
red-tiled house, almost the only tile-roofed house in the village, 
three streets distant from the field where the mission-house is 
built. They did not know, till all was over and a Hindu told it, 
that, when they rang the bell for prayer that early morning, 
Raj and Chotu, in the upper room of that little house, had knelt 
at the sound of the bell. 

But now there was confusion, the sharp report of guns, shout- 
ing, and cries of women who rushed to the mission-house. 

Who can describe, who cannot imagine for himself, the sudden 


S) 


274 RA¥, BRIGAND CHIEF 


upflaring of primitive passion, the fierce torrent of emotion that 
must have raced through those men as they knew themselves 
betrayed, trapped, outnumbered? In the flash of a rifle decision 
was made; they would fight. But how they fought let their 
deeds tell. 

They were both crack shots. The small windows of the house 
made good loopholes. The large loose roof-tiles could have been 
raised at any point, so they could have fired on their assailants 
in any direction. The battle, as the papers called it, lasted for 
about three hours; they had plenty of cartridges, they fired 
continually, but hit no one till—and at this point Marut and others 
drawn from the neighbouring villages by the sound of guns stood 
near and saw what happened—a policeman and a spy approached 
and set fire to the roof of a low verandah which ran along one side 
of the house. The roof was of palm leaves. It blazed up im- 
mediately and threatened the village with destruction. Then 
Raj fired twice to hit. Two policemen were carried off wounded. 
The spy who fired the leaves was the one to whom Raj had said, 
“And thou, brother!’”’ the man whom he had forgiven. That 
was the moment of extreme peril: if the blood-lust had seized 
him then ? 

The house filled with smoke from the verandah below. The 
door had been locked on the outside: their betrayers had seen 
to that. Somehow they broke out. All was pandemonium. Ten 
cottages were blazing, their palm-leaf roofs went up in flame 
and smoke, the women rushed in to drag their poor little pro- 
perties out of the burning houses and others tore off the roofs 
which had not yet caught fire. Then the Englishwomen saw a 
policeman aim at someone. It was Raj. And immediately 
two men—Raj and Chotu—ran quietly down the road without 
haste. They were only a few yards from the gate of the mission- 
house where two armed men were crouching. They ran almost 
with unconcern, as though they scorned to show fear. Every 
moment the white women, who now saw them for the first time, 
expected to see them fall. - 

A stream flows between the village and the Plains. As he 
leaped it, Chotu slipped. The son of the spy had never forgiven 
Chotu for his careless, ‘‘ Shall I shoot ?”’ on the day when he 
and his father came upon Raj in the cave. He shot now. “ Do 
not do himsa’’: it was the boy’s last word as the police closed 
round him. The white women were beside him in a moment, 
and protected him from that. He raised his hands in thanks ; 
about ten minutes afterwards he died. 

Meanwhile, Kaj had gone on through a wood of scattered 





LAST BARS OF THE “PILGRIMS? CHORUS” = 275 


palms. He was shooting in the air as he went, and did not 
know that Chotu had fallen. But the cry reached him. 
‘Chotu is shot.” 

He was near the Lake of the Reeds then, and within reach of 
safety. Hestoppedat once. For the moment there was no pur- 
suit, and only friends stood near ; among them Per, whose journey 
had been delayed, and who was on his way to the hills when he 
heard the shots and ran to be with his friend. But Raj took no 
notice of Per or of any other. He stood looking back to the path 
by which Chotu should come, shading his eyes with his hand, 
and his eyes were terrible. ‘“‘Chotu is shot! He is dead!” 
came the cry through the wood, and the shouts of his pursuers 
came with that cry. Raj turned then, and took cover behind 
a low wall, and shot along the ground; one man was slightly 
hurt in the foot and the white women tended him. 

“ He could have picked them off one by one as they came up,” 
said the first white man who examined the place. (A glance at 
the perfect cover of the tiled house in the village, and at the low 
wall by the water, made the truth plain to all who wanted to 
judge for themselves.) And now he was crushing down the ter- 
rific temptation to avenge Chotu’s death. (He had not exhausted 
his ammunition—so the police evidence said. He could fight 
yet.) Up till that moment it had not been spiritual victory. “ If 
Thou, Lord, be extreme to mark what is done amiss, O Lord, who 
may abide it ? ”’ 

But now Raj sprang out, drew himself up, and “ looked as 
if he remembered something.’”? What was it he remembered in 
that most solemn moment? “If only I heard that thou hadst 
died without a weapon in thy hand ’’—was it that? He sprang 
to a bank of red earth, stood there, swung his gun three times 
round his head, and flung it away. It fell on the sand near the 
lake. 

Then Per, and all who saw him, say he looked up with a look 
as of one suddenly freed. It was a look they never can forget. 
Up and up into the sky now colouring for evening he looked 
steadfastly, and then across the waters to his own blue hills, so 
near, so far, and he raised his hands in worship. And slowly, 
calmly, his eyes swept the landscape again, as though in farewell. 
Then he wheeled round to face the men who, seeing him unarmed, 
had drawn up through the palms. 

They were still at a little distance, but within range; there 
was nothing between but a ditch, some twelve feet deep, and a 
low hedge: Raj’s figure stood out clear against the hills and the 
sky. He tore from his shoulders the white scarf he wore and stood 


276 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


bare to the waist. ‘“‘ You whose duty it is to shoot, shoot here,”’ 
he shouted, and pointed to his heart. They heard him and they 
shot. The bullets fell round him. Not one hit him. Was he 
invulnerable ? Was it the charm ? 

Very slowly then, facing them all the time, Raj began to walk 
backwards towards a tamarind tree sixty yards to the west. 
Prayer had been made for him under the shadow of that tree ; 
but of that he knew nothing. On the plain to the west lay his 
parents’ graves. He stood on the western side of the tree, with 
the trunk between him and the men who were gathering up 
from the east, and calmly and reverently he did obeisance towards 
the place of the graves. Then he returned to the eastern side, 
and stood, with his back against the trunk, facing the baying 
mob now hemming him in on three sides. 

The police fired. Sixteen bullet-holes were left in the bark 
round the place where Raj had stood ; several were in a branch 
about fifteen feet from the ground; many bullets had struck 
the sand round about. Raj was not touched. He sank slowly 
as though to kneel down. There was an instant of dead silence. 
Then it was hell let loose. They were all upon him. One of them 
bit into his neck. (‘‘ I wanted to taste and see what the blood 
of such a man was like,” he explained afterwards.) Raj thrust 
out his left arm, and the butt-end of a gun crashed down on it 
and broke it. There is no need to write or to think of the next 
few minutes. At last, still breathing, he was dragged by his silk 
waist-scarf tied round his feet over the rough ground near the 
water’s edge. “Club him not. Break his right arm and his left 
leg,’’ one had shouted as they dragged him towards the water, 
thinking perhaps, as he still lived, that he could be taken alive. 
But that was spared him. His warfare was accomplished. 
Just as he was about to die a bullet at close range was put into 
his head, and after that there was no more that they could do. 

The crowd scattered. The men who loved him hurried home, 
too broken with horror to be able to pierce through the things 
they had seen to the fair and quiet glory beyond. 


CHAPTER XV 
LOOT 


An hour after all was over, two Englishmen motored up, and 
straight to them went Marut, the herb doctor, past caring what 
might happen to him. He told them of the clubbing to death, of 
the bullet put in at the last to mislead them, of the firing of the 





LOOT 297 


village without warning. He poured out of his passionate burning 
heart the scalding truth about the robberies, spoke words seldom 
spoken by brown men to white, reckless as he was at that moment. 
But to the Englishmen what he said was the raving of a fool. 
He turned from them and went, and vowed he would never again 
tell this thing to any white man and be doubted. He kept his 
vow for months. At last he came into contact with the highest 
white man in his world, and he watched him day by day, watched 
the very gestures of his soul. He was satisfied, and he told him 
this that had been as fire shut up in his bones. Nothing can 
be more difficult than to give a clear account of a great confusion ; 
but Marut’s tale exactly tallied with Per’s, and no one who has 
questioned Per has doubted his veracity. 

At first some had allowed themselves to hope that one shot had 
been merciful, and that Per and others who had seen the death 
were mistaken in thinking that Raj had died so cruelly. But the 
people knew better, and a disgraceful but remarkable woodcut 
sold rapidly. Everything had to be included, so the blazing 
village, the mission-house and the dead Chotu are there; but 
the part that holds the eye is the half-kneeling figure of Raj. 
A policeman strikes him from behind. In front, one makes to 
grip him by the throat. Another rushes upon him, the butt-end 
of his gun directed towards Raj. Others run up to surround him. 
The work is of the crudest ; but every face is stark savage except 
one which is calm—and this is strange, for the work was not done 
by friends. And Raj has no look of fear; there is a kind of joy 
in the face. It is as though the artist were feeling after something 
that passed his understanding, even that look which all who saw 
it say Raj wore after his victory at last was won, his gun flung 
away, his life yielded. 

For truth is unforbiddable. It slips between the bars of man’s 
forbidding like a perfume. Trample it under ponderous feet ; 
as well trample on a ball of quicksilver. It scatters into a myriad 
balls. And the balls rolled everywhere. Hindus and Christians 
in far scattered places kept a three days’ fast, while men waited 
to see what would happen next, and whether this deed would be 
censured or applauded. The deed was applauded, and many were 
ashamed, though they tried to find excuse: ‘‘ How should the 
Great, who believe only what their own say, attain to a knowledge 
of the truth?” was the general word as men discussed it up and 
down. 

But what did it matter, what did anything of time matter 
when the fruits of eternity began to be gathered? There is no 
such thing as wasted pain. “ By that death life came to me,” 


278 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


said Marut three months afterwards. ‘‘ I saw his face, I saw 
it as he looked up from man to God in silence ; I knew what he 
could have done, unarmed though he was; but I saw his face.” 
Who can explain what followed? The clinging influences of 
earth fell from that man then, and in that moment the amazed 
Hindu caught the light reflected from another Face. To friends 
who have come to call him back to wealth and the joys of life 
he has only one answer, “‘ I have seen.”’ 

And from places in the Native State where Raj’s innocence 
was known, messengers came asking for preachers to go and 
tell the story of his life and death. And men went and told, but 
not of him so much as of his mighty Saviour. And the Governor 
of the Province, touring in that State, unwittingly drew great 
audiences for the preachers. Perhaps, from the angels’ point 
of view, that was why he was touring there then. But all this 
was only the beginning. Who can measure the effect of that last 
witness to the powers of the eternal ? Not by the will of the flesh, 
nor by the power of the flesh, are such deeds done. When India, 
the real India, unbrutalised, sees the spiritual, she cannot resist 
the attraction. | 

Within the first few days, people from many places near 
by and from hundreds of miles away, came on pilgrimage to the 
Tree, and stood, some in anger, some in awe, under its quiet 
green, All his past sins were forgotten, all that was remembered 
was the loving heart of the man, what he had endured, his 
fidelity to his word, his devotion to his friends, for everyone 
knew what had held him, when he might have saved himself. 

“ Of what art thou thinking, O my brother? Of what art 
thou thinking? ’’ Per who had been near him, as he stood on 
the bank looking across the water to the hills, had all but cried 
aloud that question. He knew why Kaj waited there. It was 
not only love and longing for Chotu. Raj had said a little while 
before, ‘‘ It would be easier for my people if I were dead.” ‘“‘ He 
is thinking of that,” thought Per. But soon Per, who knew every 
line of his dear friend’s face, saw it change. Like a wave washing 
away all lesser things, a wave of peace swept over it. ‘‘ No, he 
did not see men, he saw none of us. He thought of none of us. 
He was conscious of nothing then but God. ‘Would the One 
who suffered for me even to the extremity of the death-penalty 
forsake me at the last ? ’ he had said, and he was not forsaken.” 

And as Per stood by him, in his tittle waist-bag lay the half- 
sheet of note-paper with the circle drawn on it, and within it 
the great words whose truth no mortal man has fathomed :. 

“ For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels 


LOOT 279 


nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to 
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be 
able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus 
our Lord.” 

But Per broke down afterwards. For a week he lay speechless, 
unable to touch food, seeing only the sight he had seen, held down 
by the grief of it, blind to the joy in it, till the overtaxed mind 
gave way and he was as one who feels with groping hands in 
the dark. And he lay so for many hours. At last over the 
tortured mind a memory drifted of something left undone; and 
so, still groping wistfully, he came to a letter that was not a 
letter but only a circle with the word and numbers; and his 
hand felt for his little waist-bag and he drew the paper out: 
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? ... We are 
accounted as sheep for the slaughter... . Nay, in all these things 
we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us... 
through Him that loved us.” Were the words bells? They rang 
in his mind like bells, like the clear, soft, little bells that Raj 
said the birds of the wood rang for him and Chotu. “ That 
loved us . . . that loved us.’ Per heard them ringing now. And 
he came back from that dim land and lived again, a man who 
had been comforted. 


The house was searched for loot; for Raj, according to the 
published police stories, had amassed over thirteen thousand 
rupees, besides untabulated properties. No loot was found, 
but a bag was found, and in it was the New Testament given on 
that night at the edge of the forest. A little blue copy of the 
Psalms was in it too, and a wordless book, whose pages Raj and 
Chotu had turned over in the dark on that night of meeting. 
“When it is light we shall look at the colours and remember,” 
they had said. The colours were black, red, white, and gold. 

A Hindu from a neighbouring town told Carunia about these 
books being found by the police. He had no knowledge of what 
books the men had; but, as he described them one by one, 
Carunia recognized them as the last she had given to Raj, and 
she tried to recover them. But Authority reminded her that 
the house had been set on fire, therefore the books must have 
perished ; and yet the house denied it, it stood almost intact ; 
nothing in it had perished. Still, the chief consolation remained ; 
the knowledge that Raj had his books with him. His purpose, 
it afterwards transpired, had been to go to Carunia by way of 
the Plains, when the invitation to the feast came, and Chotu 


280 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


had not been well and wanted to rest in the village, so he took it 
on his way. But mark the tenderness of our God. What would 
it have been of heart-break, to what sore misunderstanding 
would it have led, had the men been followed to the Forest 
House and trapped in the Grey Forest? Merciful, merciful is 
the Lord. 

The books Raj had read in the jail were sent to his children. 
They are full of marks, pencillings and references, and on the 
blank page is written the English alphabet with the sounds 
expressed in his own vernacular alongside. Evidently Raj had 
determined to learn English. But it is the references, and those 
many little signs that tell of a very simple faith, that reinforce 
all that is otherwise known of the man, a man so remarkable 
that he had a hold on the affections of thousands who never saw 
him. 


CHAPTER XII 
VINA 


But if thousands who never saw him loved him, much more 
did those love him who had known him well. Vina had been so- 
hard and so wicked that no one expected much from him, but 
when the news of Raj’s death rushed through the sub-jail in the 
Native State where he was still under trial, he would neither 
eat nor sleep, but only demanded to be taken to the water 
“that he might perform the death ceremonies for his father,” 
and when this was refused he said, “‘ Then I will die,” and he 
turned his face to the wall. And when no one was near he moved. 
back a little, and dashing his head against the wall tried to end 
his life. 

When he recovered, as he did after a while, they let him have 
his way, and he was led to the water. 

And standing there, he mourned in a loud and lamentable 
voice, ““O Raj, my father! O Raj, my father!’’ and he threw 
a few flowers on the stream, and with a farewell to the spirit of 
his captain, he turned and let them lead him back to the jail. 

That jail was difficult to find, for it was only a sub-jail that lay 
outside the knowledge of people living in the town. At last the 
Ford found it, and leave was given for Carunia and her friends 
to see Vina. 

Vina had been the ruffian of the band. Was there any hope for 
Vina? “ He had only one soft spot in the whole of him. It 
was his fondness for Raj. The worst of them all, what use to 
go?”’ This had been said more than once, as though the word 


VINA 281 


of the Saviour had been, ‘“‘ I came not to call sinners, but the 
righteous.” 

Now, there he was, standing behind his bars, his face pressed 
against them in his effort to look down the passage whose blank 
wall faced a row of cells. Out went his hands, and he gripped 
Carunia’s as though he would pull her bodily through. 

“IT thought you would never come. I have importuned your 
God to send you. I did not know the proper way to address Him ; 
but I cried to Him and I sighed to Him, * Send her, Thou God of 
Raj, send her, I beseech Thee.’ And I wrote a letter, did it not 
reach you?’”’ (it had not.) “And I tried to remember the 
words,”’ and he poured out, to Carunia’s astonishment, almost 
all she had said by the Lotus Water while his frowning eyes had 
been staring across the plain and he had not seemed to hear. 

“When I was in the district jail, I saw you one day teaching 
Raj; I besought to be allowed to talk with you, but it was for- 
bidden. And now my captain is dead and my desire is hot to read 
the books he read.”” And he told of his life, that strange caged 
life, told how he had walked up and down the cell till he all but 
went mad, for he had nothing to do from dawn to dusk, and each 
day was like a month. But eventually he would be sent to some 
big jail where there would be work to do. That prospect cheered 
him.* 

‘“ And I did as you wished,” he said ; “ I stuck to the truth even 
as Raj did; through all my trials in Court I told no lie till about 
six months ago. Then when no answer came to my letters I 
thought, “What use to try any more? They have no hope for 
me.’ Sol hadno hope for myself, save to help myself if I could by 
lies. And I lied vigorously. It was about that stabbing business,’’ 
he explained, in a calm parenthesis, doubtless expecting his 
hearers to be at home in all the doings of that lurid year on the 
road. “‘ I was in it—Raj was not. I did not say Raj was; but I 
did say I was not. I will lie no more.”’ He listened then for a 
while to the word that had set Raj free. 

“If thou canst bring a clean record from the jail, I will take 
thee at the end of thy sentence,” said Carunia at last ; “ that is,” 
she added, “‘if thou art verily in earnest to do right.” Vina 
smiled, a non-committal smile; but surely, bad as the man had 
been, there was some hope for him. He was not all hard. And 
as he stood there, still holding her hands in his which were thrust 


* For the work of Sir Andrew Cardew, former member of the Madras 
Government, abides. And the great District Jails of South India have 
a name among the people that means, “ where himsa is not,’’ as contrasted 
with the sub-jails and police stations of the country towns and villages. 


282 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


out between the bars, it was difficult to believe that this was Vina, 
the terror of the roads. In the dimness of that dreary place (for 
it was evening) his face, so light in colour that it was hardly 
brown, looked even paler than it was by nature, and wavy hair, 
parted in the middle and hanging down on either side, lent it a 
mild expression, 

“ Yes, he is behaving properly,” said Vina’s guard. (Vina in an 
undertone about his guard had said, “He is kind; he is not 
cruel.”) “ Butit is not well to wait long. There might be trouble.” 
So lest there should be trouble, the good-byes were said, and as 
his friends turned at the end of the passage, they looked back, 
and saw that pale face in its frame of dark hair, and its eager fol- 
lowing eyes: it was not smiling now, and the face was pressed 
against the bars. 


CHAPTER XVII 
MORE LOOT 


ONE day alittle brown-paper parcel was sent to the Garden House. 
It was a book of lyrics which had been found in one of Raj’s caves, 
A friend, an Englishman, belonging to one of the public Services, 
was staying at the Garden House, and he and a party from the 
house set forth to see the cave where this innocent fragment of loot 
had been retrieved, the cave where Raj was when Kumar found 
him, and Raj warned Kumar away from the false glamour of their 
life, 

It was early morning in full moonlight when the Ford turned 
out of the Garden House gate and found its way over impossibe- 
looking places till it reached the road under the mountains. The 
moon had banished the lesser stars, but the Cross and the pursuing 
Scorpion held the southern sky, and Jupiter shone like a jewel. 
The world lay lovely in her sleep, and sinful things and sorrowful 
things felt a million miles away. 

The moon was still shining when the car stopped under a tree, 
where bullock-carts were to be ready, but naturally, this being 
India, were a little way behind. 

_ In moonlight nothing is uninteresting, the plain, the lane bor- 
dered with tall euphorbia whose pale pencils were spectral against 
the sky, the rough waste beyond, the river among his stones, the 
hills, all took from that light something that they cannot find in 
sunlight. Dawn saw small figures like white flies on the bare 
shoulder of a rock that pushed up black from his green dress ; on 
the top was a huddle of boulders flung on the rock by some giant 
of the past. The other travellers pressed on through a small wood 


MORE LOOT 283 


surrounding the base of the rock and walked up the shoulder. 
“ There it is!” said the guides as they reached the summit. 
“ This is their ladder.’ It was a narrow chimney between two 
rocks ; loose stones had caught in the crack and stuck there, and 
made a rough stair. Below, on the further side, was the cave 
whence the rock dropped steeply to a valley full of trees watered 
by a hidden stream. 

The cave was small, but two or three men could crouch round 
the fire, and two or three could sleep stretched out under the 
adjoining lip. ‘‘ This cave is nothing to the others over there,’’ 
said the guide waving his hand towards heaven. ‘“‘ In the upper 
forest there are many, and large ; this is just a little one they used 
when they wanted to be near the road.” But, nothing though 
that cave might be, it commanded a great glory. 

For across the wooded gully rose the mountain, colouring in 
sunrise. Sheer precipice for some fifteen hundred feet fell towards 
the wood that climbed to meet it. The Plains were blurred still 
and misty. In the far east a rim of little clouds, whose edges were 
pricked out in a thin line of fire, rose from the sea. 

What a place to awaken in: lie on the smooth rock under the 
overhanging boulder, and the curve of the lip makes the upper 
side of the frame of that wide picture. You can lie and look out 
upon the firmament with his changing shows. You can see all 
colours there, watch all movements, pass in a moment from the 
massive strength of the mountains to the wind-blown flower of 
grass that grows in a crevice of your rock. It was a king’s bed- 
room. 

Only a few months before, a boy passing through the wood 
below had heard a man half chanting, half singing. He knew who 
the singer must be, for who else would sing in the wild, ‘‘ Lover of 
souls, Lover of souls. Ah, if Thou wert not, then what should I 
do?’ It was the song that Raj had taught the little child on his 
knee, and the boy had climbed up to the cave, and snatches of the 
song had met him as he climbed : 


Lover eternal, Lover eternal, 
Thou didst come patiently looking for me, 
Giving Thy life Thou didst ransom my hfe. 


Jubilant Lover, jubilant Lover, 
Praise Thee I will, and for ever and ever, 
Drawing my strength from Thee, leaning on Thee. 


Lover of souls, Lover of souls, 

Joyously shall I be with Thee for ever ; 
Clinging to Thee, Lord, be with Thee for ever. 
Leave Thee? Oh never; no never. 


284 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


This was the song. ‘‘ But many things sang he,” said the boy. “I 
cannot remember them all.”’ ) 

After the word of the song had been fulfilled and there was 
nothing more left to ask, the boy had climbed to the cave again, 
half wondering if anything would be found there. At first he saw 
nothing but the charred sticks of the last little fire, till, peering 
into the dark interior, he saw a small white thing, a book—it was 
the book of songs. 

Sitting in the mouth of the cave and under the overhanging 
rock, Raj’s friends kept quiet and listened. The cave was full of 
songs. But fiercer things than songs were there. 

On the night when she had met the men and they had talked 
together, suddenly a cry such as she had never heard before had 
startled Carunia. It was Chotu who had lifted up his voice and 
wept. Then in the cloudy dark she had seen Raj bow his head, as 
though to let the storm sweep over him. She had held his hand 
and Chotu’s in hers, but she could not speak, and for a little while 
no one had spoken. She remembered this. What pangs of human 
anguish those cave walls had enclosed ! 

But not into the darkness of the cave, but out to the clear air of 
the dawn, these friends of Raj looked now: that air was sweet 
with the first blue of the morning, a clear, innocent blue. On the 
other side of the mountain was the room where many a friend of 
his had stood looking towards this very place, longing to follow 
their eyes and be there with him in his need. 

What had happened when they prayed in that room? Who 
had moved through the air, crossing the great stone mountain as 
though it had been a little grassy hill, crossing the wooded valley, 
walking the air-way above the trees down there, till they came to 
this cave, and then ? 

What secrets the air holds! Movements stir it, voices fill it. 
What will it be when we see the heavenly people, are among them, 
share their ministries ? 

All through that morning Carunia had been trying to recall the 
Pilgrims’ Chorus. It had been so knit into every thing connected 
with Raj that she wanted it now. But it would not come. Even 
when the Englishman who had lately become interested in him 
and to whom that music bore the same mysterious powerful word, 
whistled the opening bars for her, its progression of chords eluded 
her. And she could not understand this inability to recover what 
had been so constant a companion till suddenly, with a rush of joy, 
she recognized an inward inhibition. The travail of spirit that 
music had expressed and succoured could never be again. An- 
other melody came now. The birds in the little wood were singing 





MORE LOOT 285 


it. The calm beautiful mountain played its peaceful chords. It 
was, “ O rest in the Lord,” from the “ Elijah.’ So the children 
from the Garden Village, whose rice Raj had guarded long ago, 
precariously seated at that moment on the extreme edge of the 
rock, gathered closer, and sang it with the birds and the moun- 
tain. They had sung it many a time to hearten her when the evil- 
doer was bringing his wicked devices to pass, and when it had 
seemed impossible that he should not win in the end. They sang 
it now that he had done his worst, and failed. And while they 
sang a small grey squirrel raced along a wrinkle on the face of the 
precipice. 

Then they read from the Psalm that calls our Goda Stony Rock. 
Read even under a roof and between walls, crowded by stuffy 
furniture, that Psalm is glorious. Read in the open air, with clear 
blue overhead, and mountains for the large rooms’ furnishing, it 
passes anything man’s poor little houses hear. The thunder-storm 
verses crashed, the cry of fear was alive. Then came the wonder 
of such words as these: ‘“‘ He shall send down from on high to 
fetch me, and shall take me out of many waters. He shall deliver 
me from my strongest enemy, and from them which hate me ; for 
they are too mighty for me ’’—And the Prayer Tree at the foot of 
this same mountain, and the wild scene under it, came almost 
visibly into view, and the long fear of ‘‘ Instans Tyrannus ”’— 
“ He brought me forth also into a place of liberty.” 

“ They were often hungry,” said the guide, pointing to the little 
fire-place with the charred sticks lying as they had left them be- 
tween the three stones—there was something that caught at the 
heart then—“ Often there was hardly anything to boilin the pot.” 
At such times must not he who took the sinless Christ up into an 
exceeding high mountain and showed Him all the kingdoms of the 
world and the glory of them, have approached those two men in 
this high place, and showed them the road, where it crossed the 
plain, and said many things to them that need not be written 
here ? But these thoughts could not torture any more. 

It was allover, that nightmare terror of sin could never be again. 
He who died for them had planned for them. He had sent from 
above and fetched them and brought them forth into a land of 
liberty. 

It was time to go. The fiery cloudlets had melted inlight. The 
sea lay like a silver ribbon. And above the air was blue, blue to 
the utmost depths of the heights ; a morning without clouds. 


PART XII 


O Captain of the wars, whence won Ye so great scars ? 

In what fight did Ye smite, and what manner was the foe ? 
Was it on a day of rout they compassed Thee about, 

Or gat Ye these adornings when Ye wrought their overthrow ? 


“ Twas on a day of rout they girded Me about, 

They wounded all my brow, and they smote Me through the side ; 
My hand held no sword when I met theiy armed horde, 

And the conqueror fell down, and the Conquered bruised his pride.” 
What is this, unheard before, that the Unarmed make war, 

And the Slain hath the gain, and the Victor hath the rout ? 
What wars, then, ave these and what the enemies, 

Strange Chief, with the scars of Thy conquest trenched about ? 


“ The Prince I drave forth held the Mount of the North, 
Girt with the guards of flame that roll round the pole. 
I drave him with My wars from all his fortress-stars, 
And the sea of death divided that My march might strike its goal. 


“In the keep of Northern Guard, many a great demonian sword 
Burns as it turns round the Mount occult, apart : 

There 1s given him power and place still for some certain days 
And his name would turn the Sun’s blood back upon its heart.” 


Whatts Thy Name? Oh, show !—‘‘ My Name ye may not know ; 
‘Tis a going forth with banners, and a baring of much swords, 
But My titles that ave high, ave they not upon My thigh ? 
‘ King of Kings !’ are the words, ‘ Lord of Lords !’ 
It is written ‘ King of Kings, Lord of Lords.’ ”’ 
FRANCIS THOMPSON. 


CHAPTER I 
WILL IT BE ALLOWED OUT? 


. N the night of the day Raj and Chotu were killed, three 


robberies were committed in their name, in villages to which 


the news of their death had not penetrated. And for a while the 
robberies went on gaily. Some were committed in the name of 
Raj’s ghost. 


“Tt should enlighten the official mind,’’ wrote one, himself an 


official, who had watched events for some time. 


286 


WILL IT BE ALLOWED OUT? 287 


“Dig up the floor of the house of the brothers,” the Garden 
House had often said to any friendly officer who chanced to call. 
“Look there for at least some of your loot.’”’ And at last the 
leaders of one of the bands which had impersonated Raj and Chotu 
were arrested ; that floor was dug up, and an Inquiry after the 
medieval fashion of the land was held in a town three miles from 
the house. 

The Inquiry over, a man who had attended it throughout 
came with one of the chief men of the district to tell Raj’s friends 
about it. 

There was quietness in the room as that tale was told. And 
when it was finished a hush held the hearts of the listeners. They 
were thinking of all that lay behind the closed gates of that great 
year ; of the human striving and human pain, and a loving keep- 
ing and pardon. At last someone spoke: 

“ Was it definitely asked if Raj and Chotu were in any of those 
robberies ? ” 

“ Definitely it was asked and definitely it was answered. They 
were in none of them. Their names do not appear in the 
lists.” 

“What of the other robberies ? ”’ 

“It is believed that there are clues.” 

“What of the imitation things, clothes, guns, and so forth ? ” 

“ They have the name of the tailor who made the clothes, and 
the name of the man who sold the guns ”’ (a name to be swiftly 
covered). “‘And many other matters can now be traced. For 
there are clues that will lead to the robbers who personated Raj 
and Chotu so cleverly in the Village of the Temple ”’ (and the man 
named the village to which those robbers belonged). This rob- 
ber'y had caused grievous sorrow and suffering to innocent people, 
‘and many most thankfully heard of the clue given at last. The 
bazaar had talked to the same effect all along, but so far in vain. 
Now, surely all would come to light. 

That night a message came from a Hindu who knew the core of 
things : 

“Would it be possible to ask Authority, the highest in the 
district, to come out and look into the records at once ? ”’ 

“Tt is almost certain to be impossible to ask anything of the 
sort. But why ask it ?”’ 

And when the reply to that question came back, it was in effect, 
**Smoke-screens.”’ 

A couple of days afterwards, he who had called Raj’s friends to 
hear the account of the inquiry met two police officers ; ‘‘ Will it 
be allowed out ?’”’ he asked. “ Out? ”’ they said, understanding 


288 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


him to mean out among the people, “It is out. It could not be 
stopped. We were thoroughly deceived.” (For some, as Raj 
knew all along, were honest in believing him to be robbing.) But 
two days later another answered the same question differently. 
“Out?” (He was thinking in terms of official recognition of the 
facts.) “‘ It will not get out unless we allow it out.” 

‘““ And the interesting thing is,’ said high Officialdom a month 
or two later, ‘“‘ that the robberies about which we were doubtful 
all along are just those about which we have now got information. 
As for the others ’’—the sentence need not be concluded. 

But on that first evening this was not foreseen; the truth 
seemed to escape like light and all heard it at once, and there were 
dreams of a swift tracking down of the other gangs, of a generous 
public acknowledgment of injustice unwittingly done. Great and 
small the people were saying, each in his own fashion, “ Verily 
there is a reward for the righteous. Doubtless there is a God that 
judgeth the earth.” 

So all was pure joy then. ‘‘ We knew it before,” said Per in 
the first great throb of happiness, “ but it is praise and thanks- 
giving that all the world may know it too.” 

But not all the world was to knowit. Fifty-five days later the 
Ford, full of Garden House people chanced to be passing through 
the border town when they saw a group of men by the wayside 
among whom were two or three policemen. The Garden House 
had heard that some of those who had killed Raj were now sorry, 
feeling that they had done a cruel thing ; and with the friendliest 
thoughts the Ford stopped to speak with them. What if this 
experience might be the gate of life for those policemen ? 

But these were not the men of whom that good news had been 
told. A police officer from a neighbouring town was holding what 
appeared to be a kind of Inquiry, and as he was far from repentant 
sorrow, the Ford was about to drive on, when he thrust the broken 
end of a gun into Carunia’s hands, saying, ‘“‘ Behold the murderer's 
work! This is the rifle of the murdered policeman. It was found 
in that man’s garden,”’ and he indicated an embarrassed creature 
who was vainly trying to eliminate himself. But the crowd of 
men who had gathered to see the stump of the gun were merciless, 
and the more that unfortunate man shuffled the more they opened 
out, so that he was exposed to view. It was Maya, whom Raj had 
employed as messenger. 

Maya looked up. He saw Dass in the car; with a pained ges- 
ture he averted his eyes. 

Dass saw the gesture and laughed. 

For both men were thinking of the same thing, even of a chance 


WILL IT BE ALLOWED OUT? 289 


meeting on the road four days after Raj’s death, when Maya had 
politely accosted Dass, and asked him to give a message to his 
wife. “ I have agreed to say everything they wish,” he had said. 
“ There is much that is required, even all that they order me to 
say about the robberies. No harm whatever will happen to me. 
Tell her not to be anxious.”’ He was to accuse Stira, the relative 
of the woman who had feasted Raj ; and Studi. Others also were 
to be implicated in Raj and Chotu’s crimes. And he had told 
Dass that he had been handcuffed, but that he would “ not be 
handcuffed any more. They said, ‘ Thou art an approver now. 
No harm will come to thee.’ ”’ 

Dass had duly given this message to the wife. (She had pre- 
viously told the white women who lived in the Village of the 
Reeds about her husband’s being beaten to make him say what was 
required.) Maya had been kept under guard ever since, but here, 
most unfortunately, was Dass ; and he would tell Carunia, indeed, 
evidently had told her, for she was looking at him. Oh, if only 
they would look the other way, then he could slip off and escape 
from their quizzical eyes. Once he ventured a nervous glance ; 
his face twisted up in a sheepish grin, he covered his mouth with 
his hands and wriggled rapidly round another man’s back, and 
hoped he was hidden at last. But the man moved, and again poor 
old Maya was left without cover. 

Then the gun Raj had swung round his head and flung away 
was handed into the Ford, “‘ The last of his stolen guns.”’ Those 
in the Ford knew how Raj had got it. But he would have said, 
“ Let it be,”’ so they said nothing. 

“ But you have discovered the truth about many of the rob- 
beries charged to him,” said one in the car, feeling that, at least, 
safe ground. 

“ Oh, a few,” and the Inspector reeled off seven names. ‘‘ We 
knew, of course, that those were not his work.’ Here a man 
standing by interpolated, ‘‘ And the Village of the Temple ”’ (the 
village robbed at the time Carunia had been asked to try again). 
a Inspector turned on the interpolator with a peremptory, “ Be 
silent.” 

How hopeless it felt ; what was the use of waiting? But the 
Inspector had not yet produced his trump-card. 

“ There stands the man who has confessed it all,”’ he said, point- 
ing to the unhappy Maya who, now that he was thus singled out, 
became more and more anxious to be somewhere else. “‘ Come,” 
and he beckoned him forward. “Come, say it. Tell of the gang 
of five. It was five? Say! or was it six?” 

But fear had surprised that hypocrite. His heart failed him, 

T 


290 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


his tongue faltered. ‘“‘ I looked for a bag wherein to put my head,” 
wrote an erring little Indian schoolboy about an interview with 
his master. That unfortunate man appeared to be looking for a 
bag. “ Five, five,’ repeated the Inspector impatiently, with a 
stimulating scowl directed towards Maya. “‘ It was five. Say it.” 

There is a rude proverb which runs, “ If you lie, let your lie be 
well set,” that is, as a well-set bone. Lie, so as to be believed. 
Resisting with some difficulty an unholy impulse to quote that 
proverb, for nothing cuts like a proverb, Carunia said to the poor 
Maya who, after one agonized glance at the man in the Ford, stared 
earnestly at his feet, “Say it, say five, say ten, say twenty.’’ 
Then from every man of that mixed group of Law and Lay, save 
only the Inspector and the informer, burst a big laugh. It was 
truth neat, and Lay, at any rate, liked the taste of it. The Ford’s 
little red flag shook with that laugh and, as it drove off, it looked 
back and saw the crowd still laughing, the Inspector still scowling, 
Maya still hunting for that bag. Poor Inspector, poor informer, 
it must be very unhappy to feel like that ! 

A little over two years later, Carunia travelling by public motor 
bus was listening with interest to the talk of the bus. 

“Duck down thy head, brother,” sang out the driver, interrupt- 
ing, “‘ and put thy bundle on the top of thy head so that it will 
appear as only anextra bundle. Itis/zs car. Duck!’ The man 
ducked. 

“Never heed the lesser ones, but if Avs car appears, instantly 
duck,” continued the driver genially to the family at large. “‘ Nay, 
little one, keep off for a moment,” this to a youth who appa- 
rently intended to jump on the bonnet, “‘ He might turn.” But 
the Superintendent of Police did not turn, so the lad was soon on 
the mudguard, and two or three others on the step hung like bees 
on the edge of a swarm, and the bus staggered round the 
corner. 

Then the men in the bus talked, and presently they got to the 
subject that even at that date awoke interest. ‘‘ Dead is he, the 
lie-telling worm.”’ 

‘So two informers are dead and gone to their account. That is 
good,” remarked a quiet-looking man in the corner. 

‘““ Who is dead ? ”’ asked Carunia, who was sitting by the driver. 

“Maya, the informer, through whose word so many have been 
sent to jail. Aye, he was backed up by ‘ witnesses,’ who doubts 
it? It had to be, but it was Maya’s lies that helped most.” And 
they talked on. So poor old Maya gained little after all. 


A CELL, AND A MAN IN EACH CORNER 291 


CHAPTER II 
A CELL, AND A MAN IN EACH CORNER 


Wuat the relatives of men apprehended in this way have to suffer 
may be left to the imagination. Immediately upon that meeting 
of Dass and Maya, the wife of one of the five sent a desperate mes- 
sage to Carunia imploring her to intercede for her husband, that 
he might not have himsa. The responsible official was out in 
camp, and after a long search was found, and he promised to write 
that same afternoon and forbid himsa. Carunia sent a reassuring 
message to the wife, “‘ Fear not; the promise has been given.”’ 
But a few days later that wife came, and with burning eyes she 
told what those eyes had seen, for she had followed her poor man 
and stood near when the himsa began. ‘“ But when the needle 
was thrust into his nail I fled, I could endure no more.” 

“ It is not always so ruthless,” said one who was trying to com- 
fort Carunia, ‘‘ I myself asked why it was so severe, worse indeed 
than has been known for several years ; and I was told that there 
is fear that your words will one day be believed, and a searching 
Inquiry result in discovering the truth about the death of Raj. So 
it is necessary to prove that he had been robbing with a band ’’— 
in order, he meant, that it might be thoroughly apparent that Raj 
was vermin and had to be exterminated. The existence of his 
band would help towards that. 

All five men who were charged with belonging to the band 
suffered greatly, and four of them, while going through their pro- 
longed preliminary trial, were confined in a sub-jail near the 
Garden House. Books were sent to the Sub-Magistrate for them, 
but these were reluctantly returned by him, for he feared to give 
offence by allowing the men any comfort in their distress. 

“ But look,” said a good-natured policeman to the Garden 
House messenger who was turning disappointed away ; and the 
cell door was opened. In each of the four corners a man knelt 
with his hands raised in the Indian attitude of supplication. The 
messenger, much moved, raised his hands in that same gesture as 
the cell door closed. And that cell with the four kneeling figures 
became as it were a possession of the Garden House. Tor many 
months there was no way by which those men could be reached 
except by the way of prayer. ‘ Bring their soul out of prison,” 
was the constant prayer both for them and for all other known 
and unknown friends of Raj, and many were unknown, for at that 
time Pon was unknown, and of the quiet powerful work of the 
Book that Raj had given to him, the Garden House knew nothing. 


292 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


And after a while things began to happen; three of the men 
were sent to one of the well-managed district jails where the im- 
provement of the prisoners is considered, and requests for teaching 
are not refused. Then it was asifa wind blew and scattered them. 
It was difficult to find out where they were. Who was winning 
now ? 

At such a time there is immense cheer in the very simple truth 
that our Lord is everywhere. The men might be where there was 
no one to care for their souls. Even there His hand would lead 
them, His right hand would hold them. 

Once, in Japan, the writer saw through an occasional gap in the 
thick undergrowth that covered a steep hill-side wonderful beds of 
lilies, tall, stately flame-coloured lilies. Those glimpses were most 
alluring. What fields of lilies God plants in the woods of the 
world! ‘‘ As a lily among thorns,” so is the blossoming of His un- 
conquerable purpose. We see only enough to tell us how much 
more there is than we can see. 

It wassonow. Even at the time of writing hardly more than a 
glimpse has been given, for jails are not open gardens where every 
man may walk ; but, though nothing more unlike lilies than men 
in jail could possibly be imagined, perhaps to the eyes of the 
angels there are flowers worth loving there. 

Within a year and a half of Raj’s death all four who had knelt 
in that dreary sub-jail had found rest for their souls in Him who 
calls to Himself the heavy laden. Words cannot describe the 
difference this made to their outlook upon life. The unbearable 
burden became bearable then. And two of them had chosen for 
their new name the name of their friend Raj, the name given in 
the dream that had been fulfilled. Strange that no single one of 
all those who had suffered for his sake blamed him for his share in 
that suffering. “Is he not dear to us?” is all they ever 
say. 
But the thought of what they could not but regard as a mis- 
carriage of justice did not become the more endurable to those 
who cared for the poor men, and so convinced was their Court © 
Pleader of their innocence that he offered to meet all incidental 
expenses if the High Court fee could be paid for an Appeal. In 
that Pleader’s office the sambhur’s head Raj gave instead of fees 
is fastened on the wall and, at that time, from one of the antlers 
was suspended a Christmas card: ‘“‘ The Lord reigneth,” it de- 
clared. It was good ‘to see that word in such a place. 

It was while the issue of the Appeal was still uncertain that their 
friend was able to see one of the four who had been sent to a 
distant jail. In his desperate loneliness he had said, ‘‘ Surely the 


NOT SHUT UP TO DESPAIR 293 


darkness hath covered me.” But the darkness did not hide him 
from his Father, and now his night shone as the day. 

His first questions were about hishome. Then he asked eagerly 
about the Appeal, but suddenly broke off, ‘“‘ But if it fails I can 
bear it,” and he told of his first abandonment to grief, ‘“‘ night and 
day I wept, I could think of nothing but my old mother and my 
young wife and my one little child. I did not know how to live. 
But as I read and as I was taught of the Lord Jesus who suffered 
so exceedingly much more than that for love of me, I found that I 
could bear it. And now I have rest,’ he used the word which | 
means the cooling of weariness. 

And it was evidently true. Standing there in the jail office in 
his jail clothes he was at peace; the face under the white jail 
cap had no look of discontent. There was wistfulness indeed ; 
when he spoke of the appeal and his poor hopes in connection with 
it (doomed hopes) tears started to his eyes; but there was peace. 
One of the half-dozen officials who were in the room, for the time 
was evening and work was being put away, spoke at this point, 
and said, “ He is a good man. We have no trouble with him,” 
and they stood by unhindering while the prisoner and his friend 
knelt down and prayed to the prisoners’ Saviour asking for 
patience to accept the disappointment if the Appeal should fail, 
and grace to live faithfully in the jail as one who was a citizen of 
another country, even a heavenly. 

Then they all went out into the compound, a large well-kept 
place with fine old trees and borders of flowers, and a green bedding 
arrangement. Doubtless there were grimmer things than ap- 
peared. There was, for example, the barred inner enclosure where 
the men who came in with a record like Raj’s were confined. (Was 
there one among them witha story like his? ) Looking in, as they 
sat in sullen rows with their food before them, she who looked 
would fain have been a prisoner among them if only thereby light 
and gladness might be brought to them. 


CHAPTER III 
NOT SHUT UP TO DESPAIR 


“ STIRA is broken,” said his friends. 

It was not strange that he was broken. He was the oldest 
man in the group arrested when Maya, the unhappy approver, 
had accepted his appointed réle, and the frail elderly man had 
been subjected to such severe himsa that sixty-two days after- 
wards, when released (for he could not be proved guilty), his 


294 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


body bore the marks of the blows inflicted to compel a false 
confession, and he could not sit up unless propped up with 
cushions. Driven by pity for the suffering of such men, the 
Garden House, through the Bishop of the Diocese, had sent careful 
and very reticent notes of these doings to Authority. Authority 
required evidence. 

Naturally, the great difficulty was to get this evidence. The 
men concerned were by that time scattered in different jails. 
No man in the hands of the Law cares to speak freely, however 
assured that it is safe to do so. Nor will the cowed and anxious 
relatives speak. ‘‘ The prudent shall keep silence in that time, 
for it is an evil time.’’ Small blame to the poor prudent. 

No woman would come forward and speak before unknown 
officials or indeed before men at all. One who had suffered very 
sorely was gently approached in the hope that she might feel she 
could tell at least a little of what had been done to her. But she 
turned a petrified face upon her friend. ‘“‘ Let me die first,” she 
said, and hid her face in her hands. 

So it seemed hopeless to try to do anything. But after a little 
while some took heart and said that if their friend were with 
them (but that could not be promised) they would be ready to 
speak. They would trust her if she assured them that the one to 
whom they were to open the truth would not cause them to suffer 
for it afterwards. Of these one, after his release, was Stira. 

“T am ill, I am tired, I only ask to be left in quietness,” 
Stira had said when Carunia put before him the impossibility of 
the Great doing anything to end himsa if no one would fearlessly 
tell of what was happening. 

““ Severely indeed they dealt with me,’ he continued, his frame 
stiffening at the recollection of that hour, “ but I am too old and 
too tired for Courts and Inquiries now.”’ 

But when he understood that, by telling the truth in the open, 
he might be the means of bringing help to many weaker people, 
the valiant old man refused no longer. He was a Hindu, but 
surely the God of all brave men took note of it and loved him for it. 

So Stira set to work with the help of his lawyer to prepare a 
statement, crushing back when it rose the fear of consequences to 
himself and to his family. And his wife, knowing nothing of 
his dangerous occupation, spent happy hours in concocting all 
manner of dishes of nourishing food. ‘“‘ He will soon be recovered 
from his sickness,” she would say hopefully. ‘“‘See what good 
soup I have made.” 

But one morning before dawn there was the sound of voices 
outside the little shut-up house where Stira lived. He was 


NOT SHUT UP TO DESPAIR 295 


asleep ; his wife was astir, ‘“‘ and just about to milk the cow,” as 
she explained afterwards, pointing to the byre. ‘‘ I wanted to 
have his early coffee ready for him when he would wake.” 

“ Open, open ! ”’ shouted voices that sent a pang of fear through 
her, and she woke the old man. 

He sat up sleepily, tired still, after all he had been through, 
and unprepared for this. 

He was dragged off. ‘“‘ They set thee free on the British side. 
We shall take thee to where they will never set thee free.” It 
was all he knew; it was all she heard. Before the village had 
awakened, Stira was gone; and his wife with her head on her 
knees sat rocking herself to and fro, shaken with sobs. 

Some hours later Stira was shown a warrant of arrest. But he 
could not read the words which set forth his crime. He was 
told then that he was to be charged with robbing with Raj in 
the Village of the Peacock, that village to which the winged 
Tiger flew after bidding good night to the ibex hunter on the 
high rocks of the Demon’s Peak. 

“And now he is broken,” said his friends in that dreadful 
quietness of despair that was worse to look upon than the indig- 
nant clamours with which they had assailed the Garden House 
when he was first carried off. ‘‘ He who befriended the poor, 
and did no one any harm—he is broken ’”’ ; and his wife who had 
wept before, sat tearless. 

Thereafter, for many days, it was as though every shadowy 
place in the Garden Village were set with bars, and a bowed old 
form was behind those bars; and a face, patient, dull to all 
gladness, hopeless in its resignation to the strange ways of fate. 
And the voice was the voice of a broken man. Books would 
have helped him, taken him into another world ; but books were 
not allowed. A parcel of them sent to him by leave of the 
magistrate was not given. Again leave was obtained, and one 
of them, a large-print New Testament marked throughout, to 
lead him to words of comfort, was given; but it was snatched 
away and torn up before his eyes. Again books were sent, and 
this time they were “lost.’”’ Then a young Scotchman with a 
resolute will went from the Garden House, hunted through the 
dusty heap of débris in the Court-house, and found the “ lost ”’ 
parcel, and again—with permission—gave it to Stira. But no 
one knew whether he had been allowed to keep it. And this was 
in the eleventh month of his imprisonment in a cell designed 
for only a few days’ detention. Two or three times a month 
he was called out, handcuffed, and led to the Court-house, where 
there was a preliminary hearing. He had to have his'pleader 


296 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


and witnesses ready, so each hearing meant expense to him, 
and he was being slowly drained of his little fortune. Month after 
month for those bookless months he sat and fed on his thoughts. 
Was it strange that he was a broken man ? 

At last, one afternoon, in that eleventh month, the Ford 
stopped outside the little sub-jail on the chance of leave being 
given to see him, and a moment later his friends were standing 
outside his cell. 

“Art thou in health?” they began in the usual way, but 
in their astonishment stared hard at him, hardly hearing: his, 
“To me is health,” for wonder at the change in face and voice. 
The faded eyes were glowing, the tired voice vibrating with some- 
thing quite new. 

‘“O Stira, what has happened ? ”’ 

“This has happened ’’; and Stira held up a book. ‘It was 
at last allowed to me,’’ and pouring out words, Stira told 
how in reading he had forgotten his griefs. ‘‘ And I found the 
story of One who suffered from himsa far worse than mine. And 
I knew that He had fellow-feeling with me in mine.” (Is there 
any path of pain down which we shall not meet Him? It was 
the suffering Saviour who met the suffering Stira.) | 

‘And I found Him, the Lord Jesus Christ. And He is here 
with me,” he added, and the voice that had been so hopeless 
rang with exultation, ‘‘ He is here with me.” 

Print is cold, and paper is cold, and nothing that can be 
written in words and printed on paper can give a sense of the 
thrill_of that moment. “‘ He is here with me.’”’ He who was 
dead and is alive for evermore—He is here. Mary standing with- 
out the cave, stooping down and looking in saw two angels. No 
vision of angels appeared to the eyes of those who stood by that 
cell, their hands stretched out between its bars, clasping the 
hands of that old man, who as he told his lovely story had held 
his hands out to them. But were not the angels there, and was 
not the Lord of the angels there, the ever Blessed One whose 
hands were pierced in that himsa that was so much worse than 
any this His poor old man had known? It was so, and he who 
does not know it has never known what life can be, what life will 
be when he too can say of the Lover of men, “I have found 
Him, He is here with me.”’ 

Among the books Stira had was a little red paper-covered 
life of Raj. He turned the pages and found the song Raj had 
sung on the evening when the traveller came upon him hungry 
in his cave. “‘ My Redeemer lives, what lack I? Answer me, 
O mysoul,’’ and he began to croon it over in his tired tuneless voice. 





MY LORD SHONE UPON ME 297 


And now, of all the many words of consolation in the book 
that he passed through the bars, which should be read to him ? 
The last sent to Raj seemed written for Stira: ‘‘ Who shall 
separate us from the love of Christ ?’’ As those words, so 
wonderful anywhere, but so vivid, vital, glorious under such 
circumstances, rang like a song of triumph through that cell, 
Stira drew himself up, and lifted up his head. 

Some weeks later a number of his Hindu relatives came to 
consult him about the conduct of his case. And Stira attempted 
to sing to them, “ It was the song Raj taught to the little one 
that night when he came down, ‘ Lover of souls, Lover of souls, 
What should I do without Thee ?’”’ they said when they told of 
it. For that tale of Raj’s teaching the child had travelled far. 

“And he said, ‘ Hearken all of you,’ and he reminded us of 
the stone burden-bearers set on the roadside on which the weary 
may lay their burdens, and he said, ‘ Jesus is my burden-bearer. ’”’ 

Stili later, a friend saw him after one of those most weary 
hearings in Court had ended, as all previous hearings had ended, 
in the laconic order, ‘‘ Case postponed,”’ and listened as he spoke 
of the peace that in very truth passes the understanding of man. 

“ And if in the end they condemn me, and chain me, I shall 
not be shut up to despair. Will not my chains be as golden gar- 
lands to me? ”’ 

It was the word Studi had used when he refused to buy 
deliverance from shame; but Stira had not heard it. Still less 
had he read of Du Bray, loaded with fetters, thrown into a filthy 
dungeon there to await his death, answering the Countess who 
wondered how he could sleep, eat or drink while covered with 
such heavy fetters ? 

“ The cause and my good conscience make me sleep and drink 
better than those who are doing me wrong. These shackles are 
more honourable to me than golden rings and chains. They are 
more useful to me, and as I hear their clank, methinks I hear 
the music of sweet voices and the tinkling of bells.” Thus grow 
in all climes through all ages the gallant flowers of God. 


CHAPTER IV 
MY LORD SHONE UPON ME 


But Stira’s story leads on into every kind of gladness. In the 
thirteenth month of his imprisonment his case was moved to 
a higher Court, and his friends rallied round him, and money 
flowed like water, and there the false witnesses broke down one 


298 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


after the other, and became hopelessly mixed. The case was 
shown to be what it was. It was dismissed. He had suffered 
imprisonment of a most painful kind for one year and sixty-two 
days. 

The magistrate called the police officer who had brought him 
the case. 

““ Answer me,” he said, “‘ how dare you bring such a palpable 
concoction to me ?”’ 

The police officer did not answer. 

“How dare you,’ demanded the incensed magistrate with 
refreshing vigour, “‘how dare you stand there silent? You, 
a seventy-five rupee man, how dare you refuse to answer me, a 
seven hundred and fifty rupee man? Tell me that.” 

This was a view of matters which appealed to the crowded 
Court. There was a burst of uproarious laughter. 

When the tired Stira was at last set free, he was perhaps too 
dazed to realize his relief; he turned a patient face on the con- 
geratulating crowd, and stood quietly waiting while the necessary 
formalities were being concluded. The officer who had torn up 
his marked New Testament stood near by. 

“So you think that your God has done this,” he mocked. 
The old man inclined his head, he had no words just then. A little 
later he described what had happened: “ First my Lord shone 
upon me and then He unfastened my fetters.” 

As soon as might be, his friends went to Stira’s village. After 
a small packed gathering in the courtyard of the house, and a 
quaint meal in a close little room whose small windows were 
filled with carved wood as if to discourage the light from looking 
in (how Stira must have loathed the publicities of jail meals), in 
the late evening the people gathered for a meeting in the 
street. 

Women came; they stood in clusters in the corners, among 
them was the widow of the feast and the jewels. Behind her, too, 
lay himsa and prison. In her arms was the grandchild to whom 
Raj had taught his song. (“Say it, little one, say it,’’ she had 
said, as the shy thing buried its shy face in her neck.) Men came ; 
a hundred or more sat in rows against the walls of the houses, 
and boys of all ages filled up the middle space. Stira faced them 
valiantly ; his spirit was eager to speak, but his mortal frame 
shook. He coughed, he faltered, he all but gave up; but his 
spirit conquered and he spoke. 

He told them of a time when his tears were his food and his 
drink; of a desolation for which he had no words, for words 
could not show it; of the barren weeks; of the thoughts that 


PON 299 


gnawed like little live things with teeth ; of the sense of abandon- 
ment by God and man, as he lay month after month in that cell. 

Then he told them of the coming of his comfort. It came 
through the story of the raising of a dead man “ dead for four 
days.’ He, Stira, was as a dead man out of mind ; he, Stira, was 
in a cell like a grave. 

Up to this point Stira’s voice had been weak, an almost un- 
controllable nervousness had clutched at his throat; but now 
he forgot himself, forgot everything in the wonder and the joy. 

“That night,” he said, after telling of the Lord’s command 
to the dead Lazarus, “‘ the night when I read of this, He Himself, 
that same Jesus, came to my cell; yes, it was He and no other. 
He stretched out His right hand to me, and He said to me, 
‘Fear not, fear not, for thou shalt be delivered.’ And I looked, 
and it was light.”’ 

A Jantern swung from the tree under which Stira stood; the 
faces of the men sitting on the ground as they looked up at him 
could be seen, intent, awed. His English friends to whom this 
was new, listened also, intent and awed. How fresh, how varied 
are the ways of the Lord with souls, Who would have thought 
of His reaching a captive in his cell with this tale of a man who 
came forth from a grave? Stira did not explain what he had 
understood by the words he had heard, he could hardly have 
taken them to mean that he would be set free in the body, for he 
had prepared himself to suffer years of unjust imprisonment. 
He must have understood the words of power in their most 
powerful sense. ‘‘ Bring their souls out of prison that they may 
give thanks unto Thy name.’ That was the prayer prayed for 
Stira and for all that group of prisoners. For months, as we have 
told, there was no way by which those men could be reached but 
by the way of prayer. “‘ O deliver them for they are helpless and 
poor, and their hearts are wounded within them.” Wasit strange 
that the Lord went to the prison-house ? Would it not rather 
have been strange if He had not gone? He is still in His world. 
And still He shines upon us and then He unfastens our fetters. 


CHAPTER V 
PON 


‘“‘ TELL others, tell others,’’ was the word that had gripped Pon. 
He lived in the jail, a man set free in spirit, and he told others. 
Then, his sentence completed, he arrived unannounced at the 
Garden House. 


300 RA, BRIGAND CHIEF 


“Tt has come to me with a great pleasure,” he said, after he 
had introduced himself as Raj’s cousin and told of the miracle 
that had drawn him, a magician and temple musician, to follow 
the Crucified. ‘‘ It has come to me that I may be Raj’s Instead ” 
(there is such a noun in his language, it is used of one sent instead 
of another), “ for if Raj had been set free to walk about this earth, 
he would have gone everywhere and told people about our 
adorable Jesus.’’ It was good to hear him, good to look upon 
him, in his fresh vigour and pure untarnished joy. And his ways 
were curiously familiar ; he had his cousin’s frank face and candid 
speech, and the same quick fling back of the shoulders. ‘I shall 
~ go home, work hard and pay off the great debt I incurred in try- 
ing to clear my good name from those false charges. While I am 
doing this, I can be telling all my relatives, and teaching my 
wife ; then when I am free from my debt I shall go further afield.” 

Someone hearing of this proposed to pay Pon’s debt and set 
him free to go preaching at once. But Pon refused. He wanted 
to pay it off himself and teach his people while he worked among 
them. 

For that which defies imitation, that rare and orden flame 
of the true evangelist, was there, ‘“‘We cannot but speak ’’—it 
was that indeed. And yet, even at that moment there were 
troubles threatening, for, if possible, he was to be entangled in 
another false case, unless he would pay to escape from it. A man 
just out of jail is always open to such distress and, because of 
the change in him, Pon was the more likely to be embroiled. 
But his bright face had no fear i init. “ My Lord has kept me for 
two years and five months,” he said, ticking off the months after 
his conversion. ‘ For seven months I read and meditated. 
For two years and five months I have been safe in His hand. 
Will the One who has kept me for two years and five months let 
me go now?” It was like that word Raj had spoken by the 
stream where the birds rang their little bells, ‘‘ Would the One 
who suffered for me even to the extremity of the death-penalty 
forsake me at the end?”’ And Pon told of how his open witness 
in the jail had led to trouble. “‘ But I have come to see that what- 
ever happens is for good,” he said cheerfully, and told how he had 
lost eleven of the forty days remitted from his sentence for good 
conduct, but “in those eleven days three more men believed, so 
what did it matter? ’’ The man was a flame. 

Then he spoke of his book. “I loved it first for the sake of Raj, 
but soon I came to love it for its own sake. Oh, what a book 
itis. Itis like no other book, and all that Raj told me I found in 
it, and much more than he had time to tell me.” 


PON 301 


“Where is the book ? ” said the joyful listener, who had given 
that New Testament to Raj, and wanted to see it again. 

“ By reading it twenty-seven men have found Raj’s Lord,” 
was Pon’s answer, and something in the turn of the head and 
direct way of speaking suggested Raj again. ‘‘ It was too precious 
to take from them. All the twenty-seven have been baptized 
and have books of their own, but I could not take that book 
from them. It was too precious.”’ 

“Who are the twenty-seven ? ”’ 

Pon began to name them. One of them was a red-cap man. 
That meant that he was in for manslaughter. When, a year 
later, Carunia met Red-cap, his face lit up at the memory of 
Pon. And among them were two friends of Kumar’s, the boy 
of tiger stories. They were both devotees and owned a shrine 
and were famous in their way. 

“And daring,’ said Kumar, when he heard of it. ‘ They 
feared no wild beasts, they feared nothing, neither man nor devil, 
and they cared not one whit for anything I could say to them.” 
Then, as Pon told over the names, another was welcomed. It 
was the name of one of the four who had knelt in the sub-jail. 
He had been in a jail where no one outside seemed to care about 
the prisoners and nothing vital was going on. After a few months, 
the order came for his removal to the jail where Pon, all alight 
with his new joy, was telling every burdened heart of the rest 
that is offered. That poor man had six little children at home, 
and he could not rise above the thought of his wife, and the six 
helpless things left without him for many years. And he was 
bitterly disappointed. Had he not lifted up his hands to the white 
people’s God when he knelt in the corner of the little sub-jail ? 
Had their God heard his cry ? 

But now, with this happy Pon at hand to reassure him, he took 
heart to hope and he found, as everyone finds who gives the 
Saviour of the world a chance, that His comforts are no dreams. 

But he had hardly been comforted when he was removed to 
the sub-jail of a town in the adjoining Native State, charged with 
dacoiting with Raj and Chotu in the Village of the Peacock. He 
found that a fellow-prisoner was there and had been there for 
months. He was one of the twenty-seven. Hehad boldly confessed 
his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and had been baptized, but had 
been taught little, because, before there was time to help him, 
he too had been carried off to face another trial in the same 
Native State. 

For Maya, in the evidence which purchased, as he told Dass, 
his immunity from himsa, had, “ let in light ’’ (deceptive phrase) 


302 RAf#, BRIGAND CHIEF 


on the dacoity in the Village of the Peacock. And so Pon’s 
friend was lying month after month, even as Stira had lain, 
waiting for his trial. He was in his eighteenth month when the 
Garden House friends met him on the verandah of the Court-house, 
hoping to be able to strengthen his heart by just being there for 
a littl. The two men, almost unrecognisably changed after 
their months of inaction and suspense, stood patiently waiting 
till their names should be called. There was time for a few words. 
Said one of the two, “‘ Long ago I bore false witness against Raj 
in the matter of that first false case, when he was accused of 
robbery in the Village of the Pool. It is true that I was forced, 
but I didit. This has come upon me because of that.” And then 
he added, “‘ I took his name when I was baptized.” It sounded 
as if he meant, in his simplicity, that he took it in apology to 
the memory of Raj. 

And the other, he who in open Court had told why he had fallen 
foul of those whom it is dangerous to offend, raised his hands in 
the gesture which, if it means anything, means so much, even a 
confidence that cannot be shaken. ‘ Not if they jail me for all 
my life will I forsake Him,” he said as his name was called and 
he went in, and there in the raised dock behind the spike-topped 
bars the two poor fellows stood with their hands pressed together 
in that appeal that never looks so hopeless as in such a place. 

So some at least of Pon’s twenty-seven have stood the acid 
test of life. “‘ The strong, the easy and the glad’ may be able 
to do without the Lord of Love for a while, the matchless charm 
and the power of the Book of the Ages may be powerless to 
attract. But let them fall among thieves, and be stripped and 
wounded and left on the road half-dead, and let One come who 
can bind up their wounds, pouring in oil and wine, then somehow 
things change, “‘ For I am sick and I am sad, and I need Thee, 
O Lord.” 


CHAPTER VI 
BY THE LAKE OF THE REEDS 


THE lake by which Raj had stood when he said farewell to earthly 
things is set in unforgettable beauty. Mountains lie behind it at 
some little distance, and partly surround it; there are trees 
and palms. One tree, green all the year round, draws the eye 
and holdsit. Itis the Prayer Tree near the water. 

On the bank of the Lake of the Reeds, on a quiet evening a 
year after the death of Raj, a number of people gathered to see 


BY THE LAKE OF THE REEDS 303 


the baptism of some men and women. Every man and woman 
in that group had a story that reached back to Raj and his witness 
to the keeping power of his God. Among them was Studi, who, 
after months that were like fretting files, had lost in two Courts 
but won in the highest to which he appealed. And with joy he 
and the others made free witha great freedom, watched the 
new believers as they walked one by one down the bank and went 
into the water. Among them was a strangely impressive man 
who came forward last of all. A Hindu stood near him, vexedly 
frowning at him, and plucking at his scarf in a restless impotent 
way, as if, even at this last moment, he would fain pluck that 
man from this act of baptism. 

But the man hardly saw him, did not heed him, his curious 
thoughtful face was rapt, absorbed. He walked into the water, 
and bending low was covered by it. For as long as a man may 
remain under water, he remained there, till the ripple his quiet 
movement had caused, ceased, and the water above him was still. 
Then he rose slowly to receive his new name, part of Raj’s, 
“for by his death life came to me,’’ he says. He was Marut, 
the herb doctor. 

He told afterwards of that solemn moment when he realized 
that he was standing where he had stood on that day of the death. 
He told how the scene had flashed across his eyes as if it were 
happening over again, and he hardly knew how to endure. Till 
suddenly he saw the things not seen : 


I see them walking in an air of glory 
Whose light doth trample on my days. 


It was that, something of that ; and not for him only but for 
those who stood by him in the golden evening by the golden water. 
But to tell such a tale is hardly more than to snatch a careless 
handful of those bright flowers of the field, and in this field “ every 
little daisy is a meadow’; and the song of the field is like the 
song of the cave where no loot was, but the innocent loot of a 
singing book: ‘ Rest in the Lord, wait patiently for Him. Fret 
not thyself because of him who bringeth wicked devices to pass.”’ 
Who is offended and I burn not? cries the heart. But to burn 
is not to fret. Wicked devices are brought to pass, but the 
word has gone forth and who shall stay it? The meek-spirited 
shall inherit the earth, and shall be refreshed in the multitude of 
peace. 


304 RA}, BRIGAND CHIEF 


CHAPTER VII 
THE FELLOWSHIP OF THOSE WHO BEAR THE MARK 


But what of the wicked devices? The purpose of this book is 
not to emphasize such deeds, but to show forth the working of 
Love triumphant. And yet is it not time that such devices were 
stopped ? We have kept within the margin of the facts. Reti- 
cence marks these pages. We“ skirt the abyss.” 

‘The Fellowship of those who bear the Mark of Pain. Who 
are the members of this Fellowship ? Those who have learnt by 
experience what physical pain and bodily anguish mean, belong 
together all the world over; they are united by a secret bond. 
One and all they know the horrors of suffering to which man can 
be exposed, and one and all they know the longing to be free from 
pain. He who has been delivered from pain must not think he 
is now free again, and at liberty to take life up just as it was 
before, entirely forgetful of the past. He is now ‘a man whose 
eyes are open’ with regard to pain and anguish, and he must help 
to overcome those two enemies (so far as human power can con- 
trol them) and to bring to others the deliverance which he has 
himself enjoyed.” 

These words, from On the Edge of the Primeval Forest, 
about the debt that every man and woman who has known 
relief from the tyranny of disease owes to the unrelieved, are 
what I would write with regard to this matter of himsa in all its 
varied degrees and phases. ‘‘ By means of himsa men are daily 
caused to perjure themselves in the Courts,” said one recently, 
“for who can stand against it? ’’ Who indeed? Hear the de- 
liberate judgment of the doctor in the African forest: “‘ Pain is 
a more terrible lord of mankind than even Death himself.” 
Innocent or guilty, a man usually succumbs to this terrible lord 
of mankind. During the course of this story there was one in 
a neighbouring district who (it was said) held out for a fortnight. 
His distress was the talk of the town, though, of course, nothing 
could be proved. He was found at last hanging from a branch in 
the police-station compound. He happened to belong to a brave 
caste and his castefolk gave trouble. A strong show of force, 
however, ended this, and there was an Inquiry. 

‘“ But,’ said the officer in charge of the affair in speaking of 
that Inquiry, “it was impossible to prove that the injuries on 
the body had been made by himsa.’”’ So the man’s end was left 
in doubt. Had he been tortured to death and then hung up by 


FELLOWSHIP OF THOSE WHO BEAR THE MARK 305 


his cloth to the tree to make it appear suicide ? Or had he com- 
mitted suicide in order to avoid more torture? Or had he never 
been tortured at all? No one was surprised that nothing could 
be proved. 

It is possible to do himsa without producing signs of injuries 
on the body. There are haunting allusions in the common speech 
of the people that have not sprung ready made from the dust. 
Nowhere in this book is it implied that the worse things happen 
every day, everywhere. Should they happen anywhere, ever ? 
But the man who sets himself to track an age-old wrong to its 
lair will not walk on primrose paths ; he will walk barefoot on 
flints and stinging thorns. Thirteen hundred miles from the 
corner of India to which our tale belongs, a young police officer 
came to his chief with the truth about these matters. “It will 
be hell, but I'll stand by you,” said that officer who was high in 
his profession and keen to combat evil. The lad could not face 
it. He went home and shot himself. 

The Fellowship of those who bear the Mark of Pain: I would, 
if I may, call others to this Fellowship. There are some who 
have suffered from man’s hardness to his fellow-man. And all 
their fresh springs have become congealed. The tenderness 
is there but no one knows it, for who can see through ice? So 
they pass for cold-hearted, and yet it is only because they are 
afraid to let themselves care again. At any cost I would call 
them back to care. I would ask them to let the warm airs of pity 
stir within them, and melt that painful frost, that they, who 
indeed do bear the Mark though they have tried to forget it, may 
be numbered among the comforters who surely, like the peace- 
makers, are called the children of God. 

And there are others, I call them too. They know nothing of 
the terror by night, for it has never dared to approach them. 
They cannot ever imagine themselves tempted to be afraid. 
Their lines have been cast in very sheltered places. But is not 
that in itself a reason why they should minister to the unsheltered ? 
God forbid that any of us should hide behind our shelters, and 
preach patience to the men and women out in the bitter storm. 

And I would include in the fellowhip (but already they are of 
it) all, whether or not they have passed through such experience, 
who see without seeing, feel without feeling. To such, to know 
of htman pain is the thrust of a knife in their flesh. The soul 
in them flinches with the soul of the tormented. They, too, 
bear the secret Mark. They, too, belong together all the world 
over. No colour-line divides them. Distance does not exist for 
them. They are One Company. 

U 


306 RAf, BRIGAND CHIEF 


There is a work for them to do. If with renewed earnestness 
they make mercy and kindness most beautiful in the eyes of their 
children, and cruelty a thing abhorred, they will give to the lands 
where himsa rules to-day men and women to whom the very 
thought of the oppression of the weak by the strong is so hateful 
that they will not quail, as that poor lad quailed, when the things 
that they have seen and the cries that they have heard are as fire 
shut up in their bones, and the word of the Mighty within them is, 
“Open thy mouth for the dumb.” 

Something has been accomplished ; we write with hope, not 
with despondency. Police officers have worked to good purpose 
already. There are certain forms of himsa which have been 
banished from the police stations of India. Surely, then, there is 
hope that this wretched thing in all its forms, blackmail included, 
will soon be effectively dealt with, this cancer of the country 
wholly eradicated. It could be done. «May the blessing of God, 
the All Merciful, be upon every man, be he Hindu, Moslem or 
Christian, who will help to heal this covered sore of the land, 


CHAPTER VIII 
IT IS THE SPIRITUAL THAT IS STRONG 


Amonc the trees of the forest on the mountains of South India is 
a tree of fountains. Stand under it on a sunny day, and you may 
chance to see from every bough high up in the air scores of delicate 
jets of water playing with extraordinary vigour and beauty. Fly- 
ing in and out of these there are often many cicadas, and where 
the light catches the spray the air is filled with hints of rainbows. 
On the ground, for some six or eight feet, the fallen leaves are 
moist and glistening, and on this softly coloured carpet are set, in 
curled vases of brown and red and orange, little brimming baths 
for the goblins of the woods. 

It is like something you expect to see in a child’s wonder book, 
not in an ordinary, everyday forest, rooted in solid earth, but here 
it is; and the people call the tree the Ever-fresh because of the 
wonder of its green, unaffected by lavish giving. Near by, some- 
where, though often out of sight in the deep ravine, there is sure 
to be water. 

One day a man came to the Garden House. “ It is a novel that 
brought me,” he said by way of explanation for his visit. “ It is 
in its third edition. It shows that a change passed over the char- 
acter of its hero, a brigand captain. I heard that by coming here 


IT IS THE SPIRITUAL THAT IS STRONG 307 


I could learn what changed him. For it is said that he is no other 
than Kaj of whom all men know, shown by another name.” 

The speaker was not young, but he had thought it worth while 
to travel eight hundred miles to find the answer to his question. 

“ Either he was a devil incarnate—but how could such an one 
die such a death ?—or he was a Mahatma—and what is the 
miracle which accounts for that ? I heard of him inmy city ”’ (the 
capital of a Native State,) and the student, who had journeyed 
far to hear the truth about Raj, told of his own life of attempt, 
achievement, failure. ‘‘ And I looked at some who walk in your 
way, but I saw little or nothing for which I could not account. 
Then I heard of this strange thing, a man innocent (so at least 
many said) bearing up against the worst reputation. I thought of 
him in the forest, like a rishi, but no rishi; did ever rishi suffer 
from a great blame as this man did? And I felt, here at last is 
something for which I cannot account. 

“Now I have heard more fully. But still I find no answer. 
Books? Others have books and such result does not follow the 
reading of them. Friends who watched over him? But others © 
have friends, and yet they yield. So it appears to me that there 
must be a secret in this.” 

He pondered over the revelation of that secret for some days, | 
then for a long half-hour knelt in silence, broken only by one short 
word: ‘‘O Thou who didst give Thy life to destroy death, re- 
solve my doubts, puzzle me not.” 

It was often so during the year that succeeded Raj and Chotu’s 
death. It was as if unconquerable love were saying again, Thou 
shalt see what I will do. Each time the story was told the dis- 
appointment in it hurt like a new wound, for—till the last hour— 
Raj had failed of the highest ; no trumpets would ever sound for 
him here ; he was not even cleared in the eyes of the Law; and 
yet the love that cannot be baffled or defeated did not spurn him, 
but took him as he was, and used him to stir many a man to 
search for the Water that can sustain with perpetual refreshings 
the secret roots of life. 

And that search continues. The first chivalrous word that 
was spoken of Raj after his death was spoken, it is good to recall, 
by an Indian police officer. ‘ I always liked that dacoit,”’ he said, 
as he looked at the battered body on the ground after Raj had 
been dragged to the Village of the Reeds, where the white women 
had guarded Chotu from harm, “' I always liked that dacoit ; he 
never offended a woman.” This, for it spread far, drew some. 
Others had read of him or had met him in the forest. The last to 
come, he comes as this book goes to press, is a lad by whom hardly 


308 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


a sin is untasted. Reckless and wayward, he went off to the 
forest to find Raj and gaze on one who could dare such great ini- 
quities. But to his astonishment the Brigand Chief whom he had 
admired for his valour in wickedness—for the boy had believed all 
the tales that he had heard—drew him aside to a quiet place by a 
stream and, sitting down on a rock, pulled a book out of a skin bag 
in his knapsack, the very knapsack the boy had looked upon with 
awe, as full of tools of violence and maybe golden loot. “ Listen, 
little brother, I have something to say to thee,’ began Raj, and 
first he read from his book. But the boy’s ears were closed to that 
reading, only he remembers that when Raj had finished he looked 
at him earnestly and said, “‘ Little brother, take heed to this. 
Thou wilt soon hear that I am dead, but I shall not be dead, I shall 
be alive. For the Man whom I trust says so, and He never breaks 
His word.”’ 

That talk was more than two years old, but as he quoted Raj 
the boy straightened his shoulders and flung back his head with 
a gesture that was all Raj, and he told how he had tried to forget 
(for his caste would outcaste him if he had dealings with Chris- 
tians), but he could not forget. ‘‘ The words clawed me,” he said. 
And so at last he had come to hear more, “ for Raj spoke not as 
one who surmises but as one whois sure.’’ And so, unvanquished, 
the love of God prevails. 

Blessed, ever blessed be triumphant Love. The forces of evil 
are immense ; the awful powers of the material pile up about us 
like the piled rocks of the mountains. And yet at long last the 
Spiritual must conquer. It is the Spiritual that is strong. 


CHAPTER IX 
REJOICE NOT AGAINST ME, O MINE ENEMY 


But what a fight it was, that fight with powers demoniacal, for 
the soul of a brigand chief. Such prayer is far removed from ease. 
It knows nothing of clean and quiet going and there is no dis- 
charge from that war. But prayer is not a lonely fight, it is a fel- 
lowship ; for of the things that we have written this is the sum : 
‘‘ Wherefore He is able to save them to the uttermost that come 
unto God by Him, seeing He ever liveth to make intercession for 
them.’’ ‘‘ There is a path that no fowl knoweth, and which the 
vulture’s eye hath not seen: the lion’s whelps have not trodden it, 
nor the fierce lion passed by it ’’ ; but he who follows it comes to a 
garden and to One who waits for him there. Often when all that 


REJOICE NOT AGAINST ME, O MINE ENEMY 309 


had been hoped for appeared to have gone down in a welter of dis- 
tress, and the spirit worn with vigil was dull and listless and 
tempted to give ear to the lying voice that said, Why should we 
wait on our God any longer ? or at least to postpone prayer till the 
flame had kindled again, then, through the power of the eternal 
Spirit, who takes the things of Christ and shows them to mortal 
men, there was shown a Figure kneeling alone ina garden. It was 
not difficult, then, to go and kneel beside Him there, and 
pray for Raj again. And the depression was known for what it 
was—the movement of satanic power that was seeking a way 
to close round the soul and get between the one who prayed and a 
loving, listening God, even the God who calleth the things which 
are not, as though they were. With that creeping, dark, satanic 
power our wrestling always is, never with an unwilling God. For 
God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself. It is 
wronging His love to pray as though that were not true. 

In brief, live through such an experience, and you come to this : 
It does not matter how many questions fill the deep places of 
prayer; we shall know the answers to-morrow. To-day it is 
enough that we may prove our God by the humble, the far- 
reaching energies of prayer. 

The world is tired of sham, of pious words that cover a heart 
cold about the grief of others. Read the best of modern poetry 
and fiction, and there you have it set forth in plain language, 
“ Give us reality.”’ Sinning, falling even where he most meant to 
stand, Raj was real man ; and he found Christ the Saviour of men 
enough for the tremendous circumstances of that year on the 
mountains and the Plains. 

So the story has another word ringing out through it, and 
people all over the world have taken heart to hope for the baffled 
and the overcome. And they turn on the adversary with a new 
courage and say, “* Rejoice not against him, O mine enemy : when 
he falls, he shall arise : when he sits in darkness, the Lord shall be 
a light unto him.’”” And they know that indeed and verily our 
Father devises means whereby His banished may return to 
Him, and that which He has promised He will certainly per- 
form. 


The room where we write looks upon the mountains where Raj 
and Chotu wandered, and directly opposite is the only valley 
where they never stayed. It is the Valley of the Grey Forest 
where the house is to which Raj never asked to be allowed to go 
till the time came when leave was given, and he set forth to meet 
his death. 


310 RAF, BRIGAND CHIEF 


The valley is backed by a wooded mountain. From the forest 
some four thousand feet up a crag emerges whose summit is made 
of huge rocks tilted one on top of the other, and so contrived as to 
form a cave whence a view of the valley and the plain is out- 
spread. No safer fastness could have been designed for Raj, and 
it would have been easy to have dropped through the forest and 
got supplies from the house below, which, as he must have known, 
was always stocked with food. ‘he valley was searched several 
times, for it was believed that he was in one of its caves, very pos- 
sibly in that particular cave high up in the crag that overhung the 
forest. And glancing up at it from the Forest House no one could 
wonder that this idea took root in the hunters’ minds. But on the 
day that Pon came to the Garden House the crag for the first time 
moved into the story, and now appears part of it. For on that 
morning one of those illuminating things that so often happen out 
of doors occurred just after sunrise. It had been a dull dawn, till 
suddenly a shaft of light struck through the vapours that muffled 
the east, and pricked out the crag that before had been indis- 
tinguishable from the colourless mass of the forest behind, or if 
seen at all was a mere knot on the shoulder that shut in the 
valley. 

And the forest awoke, green as young rice, under grey clouds, 
and lay back on the mountain side and showed the space between. 
Not of me is that crag, said the forest. And the mountain in front 
drew off alittle, and a narrow belt of violet stretched out between 
it and the crag, and told of a sundering ravine. Not of me is that 
crag, said the mountain. So the crag stood alone. 

But as the light travelled slowly across the wide valley the sense 
of the aloof, the alone, the individual, passed in a feeling of the 
beauty, the union of the whole. There was no blur now, no hint 
of the indefinite, but neither was there any sense of isolation. 
Light and shadow working together, unified all, interpreted all. 
It was as though the roots of those miles of mountains were dis- 
covered, and found to be just one; every pebble on every little 
shelf on the cliffs, set in his place, or ever the world was. 

There were times in this story when the whole appeared a blur. 
Then, again, nothing appeared to be related to anything, each 
separate phrase of the movement seemed to move alone, each 
fragment of the picture stood alone, and the part that touched 
Raj stood terrifically alone. Was it caprice that had thrown the 
elements of the scene into that particular shape? Was there 
no ordering hand anywhere, no interrelation, no harmony, 
no hope ? 

I had fainted unless I had believed to see. Whatever the 


REJOICE NOT AGAINST ME, O MINE ENEMY 311 


story be, whether it be our own or that of another, if we wait there 
will be vision. We shall see a light travel over the chaos of life, 
composing, unifying, as it moves over mountains, forests and 
valleys, and illumines the ravines. To live through Raj’s story 
was to see that illumination, to sing a new song, and to find a new 
peace. 

But the tale has not been fully told. There are things black as 
a raven’s wing, clear as sunlight upon water, that, if only they 
might be written, would reinforce the book. But they cannot be 
written without risk of hurt to the living men and women who 
cross its pages. And sometimes this has appeared to be a loss, for 
we seem to be showing the mere edges of His ways. “ There is 
in God—some say—a deep but dazzling darkness.’’ Let the spirit 
catch ever so faintly and afar, be it but the echo of the thunder of 
His power, and all that can be spoken of that majesty is only how 
little a whisper. It is as though a darkness were shown, but not a 
dazzling darkness. 

And yet surely something has been shown of the operations of 
His hands. Pondering the outgoings of this tale, we feel, we know, 
that time is not, we are even now in eternity. And we know that 
nothing in the play of circumstance is capricious, for the Lord 
our God is Love; nor is there any isolation for any human soul, 
for we are all our brothers’ keepers. And we learn, as one learns an 
old song set to new music, that all things work together for good, 
not for unkindness ; and harmony, not discord, must be the end 
of all things ; for the thoughts that our Father thinks towards us 
are thoughts of peace and not of evil to give us an expected end. 

Many and mighty are the voices of this book. The last shall be 
the voice that speaks deepest to the awakened soul of man: 


Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won 
Others to sin and made my sins their door ? 


There is pardon even for that. Donne found pardon and his 
piercing question dropped like a spent arrow at his feet. Raj 
found pardon—‘ Who is a God like unto Thee, that pardoneth 
iniquity ? ”’ (The little worn Bible that he read in the jail opens at 
this word underlined in blue). “ He will turn again, He will have 
compassion upon us; He will subdue our iniquities and will cast 
our,sins into the depths of the sea’”—“‘Unto Him that loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings 
and priests unto God and His Father; to Him be glory and 
dominion for ever and ever. Amen.” 

“He who brought light out of darkness, not out of lesser light,” 
wrote John Donne, “ He can bring thy summer out of winter 


312 RAJ, BRIGAND CHIEF 


though thou hast no spring. Though in ways of fortune, of un- 
derstanding, of conscience, thou hast been benighted till now, 
withered and frozen, clouded and eclipsed, damped and be- 
numbed, smothered and stupefied till now ; now God comes to 
thee, not as the dawning of the day, not as the bud of the spring, 
but as the sun at noon to illustrate all shadows, as the sheaves in 
harvest to fill all penuries.”’ ; 


The Mayflower Press, Plymouth. William Brendon & Son, Ltd. 
1926 


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